


The Little Pieces of Us

by otayuri_oh_nice



Series: The Little Pieces of Us [1]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Eventual Smut, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Love, M/M, Minor Character Death, Mutual Pining, POV Alternating, Post-Canon, Slow Burn, Through the Years, canon until gpf, like half a chapter of smut, post-GPF
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-15
Updated: 2017-03-12
Packaged: 2018-09-17 17:08:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 94,666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9334604
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/otayuri_oh_nice/pseuds/otayuri_oh_nice
Summary: Throughout the years many moments and events shaped Yuri's and Otabek's lives, but between the medals, failures and stolen kisses, these were the most memorable ones.A look behind the scenes of Yuri's life as Russia's figure skating hope and private person age 16-24, and Otabek's influence and significance along the way.* * *Age 18:“I mean, why me? Even I know I’m an asshole most of the time, any of the finalists present today can confirm that, and across the past year I was insufferable, even for my standards.”Otabek’s eyes turned softer then. “That’s not true. Yes you can be a bit of an ass sometimes, but that’s not everything. Trust me, the positives most definitely outweigh the negatives.”





	1. Beauty and Grace (age 16)

“You’ve been awfully quiet all day, even on Instagram,” Otabek noted once Yuri accepted his Skype call in the evening (well for Otabek it was almost midnight).

“Look at you, actually using social media! I’m proud of you,” Yuri teased. “So you’ve been all up on my Instagram stalking me, hm?”

“No, of course not.”

Ever since Yuri forced him—or rather, nicely recommended (as Yuri preferred to phrase it)—to use his Instagram more after losing a bet to him at Worlds, Otabek had used the app to follow whatever Yuri was up to, especially on days when they didn’t have much time to talk. Sure, Yuri wasn’t as active as Phichit Chulanont, but he still posted a consistent number of pictures on a daily basis. Even if at least half of them were of his cat.

Yuri gave him a raised eyebrow stare through the screen before answering Otabek’s original question. “I…might’ve smashed the screen of my phone.”

“Again?” Even though Otabek wasn’t a man of many expressions, he was still _this_ _close_ to face palming, though part of him wasn’t even surprised anymore. “Which one is it now, screen number five?”

“It’s not my fucking fault that the old man and the pig had to post yet another gross picture with fucking JJ of all people,” Yuri complained, aggravated. “Why they bothered flying to Canada to attend that dickheads wedding is beyond me, like seriously, what is wrong with them?”

Otabek had quickly caught onto Yuri’s obvious hate when it came to JJ and literally anything that had remotely to do with him. It wasn’t like Yuri was hiding that fact in any way. Chulanont’s twitter had a whole series of live tweets from Worlds, earlier this year, where Yuri and JJ had gotten into fights. Yuri was just too easy to wind up and JJ was much too aware of it. Otabek had tried, numerous times, to get Yuri to understand that it wasn’t worth it, that he should just ignore JJ, but his words had fallen onto deaf ears.

“Hey, don’t you fucking look at me like that,” Yuri snapped, his eyes squinted as he looked straight into the camera.

“What did Lilia and Yakov say about your broken screen?” Otabek asked, instead of defending himself or trying to argue with Yuri, knowing that that wouldn’t lead to anything productive.

Yuri looked away and sighed. Last time Yuri broke his screen, Lilia had made him clean the entire house, including scrubbing the toilet, which Yuri had found to be outrageously unfair and fucked up. But of course he had quietly done it anyway because he knew better than to try and argue with Lilia. Otabek had only met her twice so far, but he had heard plenty of stories about the woman from Yuri, making him thankful for his much friendlier coach.

“She hasn’t decided on an appropriate punishment just yet, which has me worried. Usually she is always ready to kick my ass for whatever I did or didn’t do,” Yuri finally said. “Yakov will probably scream at me at practice tomorrow, but what’s new.”

Otabek wanted to laugh and had to hold himself back from reminding Yuri how he reminded him plenty of times that if he had to throw his phone, he should at least consider throwing it onto a pillow or his bed instead of the walls.

For the next month Yuri didn’t bring up what the punishment turned out to be, and Otabek didn’t feel the need to ask about it. If Yuri hadn’t complained about it, it obviously couldn’t be that bad. Eventually, Otabek forgot the whole ordeal.

However, a few weeks later, a fancy-looking letter arrived in the mail. It was a formal invitation, decorated with golden accents and a swirly font, to a charity event held in Moscow in a month’s time. Signed by Lilia Baranovskaya herself. Otabek was confused as to why she’d invite him, since she’d never done so before.

Occasionally he got invitations from JJ to attend one of his many charity related endeavors, which he liked to attend if he could fit them into his calendar, charity was important, but none of them seemed quite as high scale as that one.

When asked about it, Yuri refused to answer, blushed and immediately changed subject. Otabek was tempted to ask Nikiforov or Katsuki about it, guessing that they surely knew what was up with that invitation, but in the end decided against it. Whatever it was, he could wait a month to find out. Around that time his coach began to work with him on his short program for the upcoming season, It effectively kept his curiosity at bay.

The _Radisson Royal Hotel Moscow_ was nothing short of stunning, and at least 3 stars too expensive for Otabek to be comfortable around. But, given how this was an event in parts hosted by Lilia Baranovskaya herself, he certainly wasn’t surprised. A long line of cars had formed leading up to the main entrance with pairs or groups of people exiting them in high end fashion, suits, tuxes, and dresses, surely each worth as much as all of Otabek’s belongings combined. To say that he felt out of place was an understatement, but for Yuri he was willing to ignore that thought.

“Otabek!” someone called out while he was following the flood of people toward the banquet hall. He stopped and looked around trying to find the source, which turned out to be a grinning Victor Nikiforov, wearing a black suit and tie, followed by his fiancé, Katsuki Yuuri. “Glad you could make it.”

Through his affinity with Yuri he had been exposed to Victor and Yuuri more than before, and had formed something like a friendship with them, though more often than not he wasn’t quite sure what he was supposed to say to them. Talking to Yuri was much easier to him.

Speaking of which.

“Where’s Yuri?” he asked, looking around. Usually, despite Yuri’s persistent whining about how obnoxious Victor and Yuuri were, you could still find him close to them. Otabek got confused when he couldn’t spot him anywhere.

“He didn’t tell you?” Yuuri asked, surprised, and looked at Victor.

“He’s going to perform today. Lilia made him, but secretly he likes it. You know him, he’ll never admit it.”

That didn’t seem all too bad, which only made Otabek wonder why Yuri hadn’t mentioned it. At a gala like this, whatever he was performing couldn’t be that embarrassing. Important people would be present. Then again, knowing Yuri, regardless of what Lilia made him do, he would find it absolutely humiliating, at least when asked about it.

“Come on, let’s go inside,” Victor said before putting his arm around Yuuri’s waist. “You’re lucky, you’ve gotten a seat at our table.”

The banquet hall most definitely deserved its name. Several crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling, the floor covered with expensive looking damask carpet and the tables were decorated with extravagant porcelain, cutlery and rich bouquets of flowers. Paintings worth a fortune or two hung on the walls and two gigantic flat screen TVs flanked the stage.

Once all the guests settled down—Otabek, Yuuri and Victor, along with Mila and Georgi, had a table close to the stage offering them a perfect view—the hosts of the evening climbed onto the stage to welcome the guests and thank them for coming. Looking around the attendees, Otabek didn’t see any familiar faces, besides Lilia standing on the stage wearing an elegant dark green dress and Yakov sitting a few tables away from them. Then, he spotted the person he knew Yuri would appreciate least being present: Jean-Jacques Leroy and his wife Isabella.

Yuri would lose his shit, Otabek was sure of that.

Performer after performer took the stage, ranging from singers to violinists and pianists to comedians, but still no Yuri. Slowly Otabek was growing impatient, which was odd for him as he was a patient person. But curiosity was getting the best of him.

Just before the next performer was supposed to take the stage, Lilia herself walked up to the microphone to announce that this artist was trained and prepared for this evening by none other than herself. Excited chatter swept across the room, tension and excitement growing among the audience. Everyone knew that whatever Lilia touched could not be mediocre, especially not if she felt the need to mention it, so expectations shot sky high.

The lights were dimmed as she left the stage and a thin figure with slim limbs, light blond hair and perfect posture emerged in a white ballerina gown and headpiece that everybody could recognize: the white swan from Tchaikovsky’s _Swan Lake_. Otabek had almost expected Yuri to be the one to perform, but seeing the costume he wouldn’t be surprised if whoever was presenting belonged to the Bolschoi and happened to be Lilia’s student

The first thing that threw Otabek off was the odd familiarity of the silhouette before him, followed by the lack of pointe shoes worn by ballerinas. The music started and the performance began, all lights focused on the lone ballerina. Her moves were completely and utterly perfect, impossibly graceful and natural, as if she were born to perform this. Still, Otabek couldn’t shake the feeling that he had seen her before.

Otabek turned around to ask Victor about it, but he stopped as he saw Victor’s expression. There were tears in his eyes, his hands covering his mouth. A similar expression was to be found on Yuuri.

The music swelled, growing louder, more dramatic, compelling Otabek to turn his eyes back to the stage. And just then, as the dancer went from one side of the stage to the other, her steps tiny yet moving surprisingly fast, the light hitting her face just right, Otabek realized that the dancer wasn’t a girl at all.

The white swan, under all the makeup, and with perfectly braided blond hair, stared right through bottle green eyes that Otabek would recognize anywhere. It was none other than Yuri Plisetsky himself. Otabek’s jaw nearly hit the table and his eyes widened in surprise. It explained why Yuri hadn’t mentioned any of it. It also explained why Victor and Yuuri were crying, and Mila had a giant smile on her face.

Otabek wasn’t crying, but he certainly felt proud and in complete awe. He knew Yuri was good, had always been good even when he was ten and Otabek had seen him for the first time, but this wasn’t the Yuri he had seen perform on the ice and win numerous gold medals during his senior debut, or the Yuri who was his best friend. No, this was Yuri the dancer, what he could have become if he had chosen ballet instead of figure skating, though Otabek was surprised by the choice of costume and piece. Then again, the solo of a ballerina was certainly more interesting to watch than that of any of the male roles in _Swan Lake_ , besides maybe the villain. Either way Yuri looked beautiful in the costume, his performance nothing short of exquisite.

Later, when asked why the white swan instead of the black one, Yuri told him that the black one would have been too obvious of a choice for him, and would have made recognizing him way too easy. By dancing the white swan Yuri wanted to show Lilia that she could go fuck herself because he was more than capable of doing it, despite her initial doubt. Only Yuri would be able to rebel by dancing the white swan.

That evening Victor posted two pictures:

The first one was taken by Otabek of Victuur: Victor and Yuuri’s ship name, as given to them by Phichit, who had used it under one of his Instagram pictures and it had caught on, which got an above average number of likes and comments as for Victor’s standards. Fans were screaming their hearts out in the comments about just how wonderful Victor and Yuuri looked together and how they couldn’t wait for their wedding to finally happen because #goals or something.

The second picture was taken by Victor and showed Otabek along with the pretty swan lake ballerina still in costume backstage with his arm lightly around Yuri’s waist. Victor of course criticized Otabek for his lack of smile, because apparently their definitions of a smile were different, but was extremely pleased with just how graceful Yuri looked like. That picture literally explode in a matter of seconds going viral across all social media platforms, even more than the news of the hero of Kazakhstan having kidnapped the fairy of Russia back in Barcelona months prior.

Otabek had to hold Yuri back from attempting to kill Victor for tagging him in the picture, thus revealing that the ballerina was him which literally caused a meltdown amongst Yuri’s Angels, followed by keeping him from going after JJ who left a comment asking why no one told him that it’d been Yuri up on that stage, and why neither of them had said hello to him.

The only one who answered JJ question was Yuri who simply told him to fuck off. Eloquent as ever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This started out with a tiny idea I had (and didn't plan on doing anything with) but then it kind of spiraled out of control into whatever this is (and the chapters that will follow). I know this was a bit silly, but I thought silly would be a good way to start before the angst, there certainly will be some of that since that's what I'm best at. Don't worry, there will also be lots of Otayuri fluff, I have grand plans. Don't you worry!  
> Also excuse my inexperience when it comes to writing in 3rd person. I'm more of a 1st person kind of writer but I thought I'll try my hand at 3rd this once.
> 
> If you have any ideas/prompts/suggestions, don't hesitate to leave them in the comments. Also any criticism, good or bad, is very much welcome! :)
> 
> PS. the idea for Yuri performing as white swan was sparked by this amazing post on tumblr: http://doodlesonice.tumblr.com/post/155813382596/trying-out-some-new-brush-settings-on-sai-so-have


	2. Sexy and I Know It (Age 16)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> not beta'd.

Later that same year, Yuri was hell-bent on kicking JJ’s ass for each and every time he called him something girly after the charity performance. It came as no surprise that he almost managed to get himself killed on the ice while skating his heart out during Stake Canada (silver) and Trophée de France (gold). Just like in the previous year, during the Grand Prix Final, Yuri and Otabek exchanged Davai’s before their performances. Otabek was convinced it helped him sneak his way onto the podium, getting revenge for the previous year when JJ had taken bronze even though his performance was much more flawed than Otabek’s. Yuri had been very pleased with that fact.

Yuuri took gold, finally winning his ticket to marriage—even though Victor had assured him that he’d only been joking about the medal being a condition—while Yuri won silver and Otabek bronze.

That night Phichit’s Instagram post almost crashed his, Otabek’s and Yuri’s phones after he’d posted a picture of Otabek giving a smiling and laughing Yuri a piggyback ride. The comment section below it couldn’t decide by which they were more surprised, Yuri or Otabek smiling, since both was a rare sight. Yuri had giving Phichit hell for the picture, much to everybody’s amusement, but just minutes prior Otabek had seen Yuri take a screenshot of it. It was a good picture, mainly because Yuri was smiling in it and he’d been the reason for that smile.

Being the good friend that Otabek was, Yuri had no problem with talking him into accompanying him and the rest of the Russian team to the European Championships at the end of January in Ostrava, Czech. In exchange Yuri promised he’d fly out to cheer Otabek on at Four Continents, at the same time promising to shed blood should JJ as much as dare to win gold instead of Otabek.

“I’m so fucking bored,” Yuri groaned lying on his hotel bed staring at the ceiling. “And I swear if Victor doesn’t stop spamming our group chat with his bullshit about just how much he misses that stupid katsudon I will personally strangle him before sundown.”

“I think it’s cute,” Otabek said without looking up from his book.

“Of course you fucking do.” Yuri muttered and unlocked his phone, which was again exploding with an array of text notifications coming in at rapid-fire speed. Sometimes Otabek did wonder how Victor had so much to say and missed Yuuri just this much even though they’d seen each other just a few hours ago. Then again, he also missed Yuri each time they had to part ways though he kept that fact to himself.

Otabek closed his book with a thud and got up, leaving the book behind on the armchair. “Okay, let’s go.”

“Huh?” Yuri looked up from his phone, his eyebrows raised in raw confusion.

“You’re three texts away from breaking your phone, again, so just mute the conversation and get up, we’re leaving,” Otabek said, firmly, while putting on his leather jacket.

“Fucking fine, but this better be worth me freezing off my balls.” This was surprisingly easier than Otabek was prepared for it.

Because they arrived in Ostrava two days before the competition, Otabek had taken the time to rent out a bike exactly for moments like this one when Yuri was in dire need for a distraction to keep him from doing something stupid. Yuri would never admit it, but Otabek knew that this even more enhanced level of annoyance with everything and everyone was Yuri’s coping mechanism with the stress and nerves slowly setting in as the competition approached.

Otabek didn’t really have any sort of clear idea where he was driving once they left the hotel garage, but that hadn’t stopped him and Yuri ever before. The night was young and they were surrounded by a foreign city ready to be explored, though it would’ve been nice if the weather had been just a little warmer.

After driving around for a little while they settled on exploring the Masaryk Square, even if only because it was the liveliest spot they’d come across, and one that offered a lot of places to choose from when it came to dinner. The last time they’d eaten was some lousy breakfast at the airport in St. Petersburg, which had been way too many hours ago and Otabek knew it was only a matter of time before Yuri would get extra cranky due to being hungry.

The square was full of life, conversations, music, light and different smells emerging from all sorts of restaurants and diners. Otabek watched as Yuri tried to take a picture of the statue of Virgin Mary for his Instagram, amused by his angry complaining each time a kid ran past him.

“Fucking brats are everywhere.”

Half an hour later they’d settled on a small restaurant that seemed least crowded where, in clichéd tourist fashion, they ordered the least Czech food on the menu. Otabek wanted to try and convince Yuri to branch out food wise, even if only because it felt wrong not to try the Czech cuisine, but the sheer look of joy spread out across Yuri’s face once the waitress brought his fries made Otabek change his mind.

If fries were all it took to coax such a peaceful and happy expression out of Yuri, he’d buy all the fries he could get and served them to him on a cat shaped silver platter.

After they had sufficiently stuffed themselves with all the food Yakov and Lilia would probably kill Otabek for allowing Yuri to eat it, especially this close before a competition, they made their way back to the bike.

“Do we have to go back yet?” Yuri asked while they were putting on their helmets. His voice was hopeful, faintly so but enough for Otabek to catch it.

“Not if you don’t want to.”

“I really don’t want to. Mila texted that Georgi is having another Anya related meltdown because apparently she posted yet another gross ass picture with her husband and I _really_ don’t feel like listening to Georgi moan about that bitch, _again_. It’s been almost two years, he should honestly just fucking let go already, idiot.”

In moments like these Otabek was truly reminded, once more, of the fact that Yuri was just sixteen and that love and heartbreak were still things that apparently completely went over his head. Or maybe Yuri was just too used to his ball-of-teenage-angst persona to even allow himself to attempt understanding how Georgi was feeling out of fear that he might just, god forbid, find some empathy hidden inside of him.

The roar of the engine drowned out Otabek’s thoughts as they made their way through the streets. The sun was gone and the night had taken over revealing a blanket of bright stars above the city. It was much quieter here than it was back home in Almaty, or in St. Petersburg, he noticed, and the people seemed to drive less like lunatics.

Somehow they found their way to the other ice rink the city had making Otabek wonder if maybe they were simply destined to find the ice wherever they went.

“Want to go?”

“At public hours? That’s a fucking stupid idea. Do you even know how many fucking brats will be there, let alone idiots who can’t even skate properly. I’d rather saw off my own arm than go in there and put on shitty rental skates.”

Despite his protests they still went inside, put on shitty rental skates and made their way toward the ice. Contrary to Yuri’s worries there weren’t that many children present and most people seemed to be able to remain on their skates instead of falling onto the ice. The music was just a bit too loud and a bit too annoying, but the feeling of ice beneath him would be enough for Otabek to ignore it.

“For just a little while we can be like them,” Otabek said as they approached the entrance onto the ice. The rink wasn’t big or spectacular in any way, forgettable even, but at the end of the day, a rink was a rink and that was all that mattered. “No pressure to land any quads, no judges, no competition, nothing.”

“You can’t complain, asshole, you don’t have to win gold in two days,” Yuri hissed before taking off on the ice. For a moment Otabek just stood there shaking his head lightly while he watched Yuri whiz past groups of people and trying to look the least annoyed as possible.

Even without any choreography, complex spins or jump combinations there was something compelling about the way Yuri skated. Sure his hair was flying everywhere, making it look even more like a mess than it already was thanks to the helmet he'd worn on the bike minutes prior, and his animal print jacket made him stand out of the crowd as though a spotlight was following him, but it was still mesmerizing. Yuri was graceful on the ice, reminding Otabek of his white swan performance, his moves natural and focused while at the same time completely relaxed and serene as though he was leaving all of that fiery anger from within him behind for just that little while.

At some point Queen’s “I Want To Break Free” began to play and it only took so long until both of them couldn’t resist doing something more advanced than just going around it circles like ordinary people. Neither of them whipped out any complicated jumps, yet it seemed like the very basic spins were more than enough to get the attention of almost everyone around them.

A boy not older than thirteen skated up to Otabek and looked at him with big round eyes. “Are you Otabek Altin?” His words were heavily accented but simple enough for him to understand.

“Yes.”

“One day I want to be just like you and win a medal for Czech at Worlds.” Plenty of times Otabek had watched as people came up to Yuri, Victor or Yuuri to tell them things like these, but it’d only happened a handful of times to Otabek. Frankly it rendered him speechless every time.

“Maybe if you wish him luck he’ll stand a chance at gold this year,” Yuri said, suddenly appearing behind the boy. He turned around in the blink of an eye and audibly gasped. Queue the usual reaction to seeing Yuri Plisetsky, the youngest GPF gold medalist and Russian fairy.

Yuri regretted having said anything a second later as the boy began to fawn over the both of them, much to Otabek’s amusement. Yuri looked appalled and ready to run at any second, his eyes wide and his stance defensive. Luckily for Yuri it seemed like no member of Yuri’s Angels was present at the rink so at least they were spared the eardrum shattering screeching of those very enthusiastic girls. Otabek never minded being approached or seen as someone’s inspiration or even idol, though that had never been part of the reason why he wanted to be a skater and win medals. All he wanted was to make his country proud.

“You’re going down, Altin,” Yuri teased after that boy somehow managed to coax the two of them into a figure skating battle. Strangely enough Yuri seemed to be all about that idea and Otabek didn’t have the heart to say no.

LMFAO’s “I’m Sexy And I Know It” wouldn’t necessarily have been his first choice of music to skate to, but baggars could not be choosers so he just rolled with it. The crowd cleared out the central part of the ice and proceeded to watch them with fascination. A few people took out their phones to take pictures or videos, which most definitely completely missed the entire purpose of why Otabek wanted to just skate for fun while blending in with the crowd. But seeing Yuri smile made it worth it, even if the rental skates were definitely not the right footwear for any of their tricks and Yakov would skin him alive if Yuri would somehow hurt himself. For some reason Yakov had assigned him the title of being "the responsible one" and Otabek wasn’t ready to give up that title just yet.

Luckily neither of them did in fact get hurt and Yuri had been declared the winner, of course. Otabek didn’t tell him that he deliberately let him win as little boost of confidence, not that Yuri, of all people, would need it.

“Let’s take a selfie,” Yuri announced, not asked, after they stepped off the ice an hour later. They were both sweaty and tired but Yuri didn’t seem to really care. Strands of his hair were stuck to his face and his cheeks flushed.

“Do we have to?” Despite Yuri’s best efforts, Otabek still wasn’t the biggest fan of pictures containing his face and taking selfies, which Yuri still failed to understand, or maybe he just wasn’t interested in understanding.

“What did I say about your presence on social media? Using it to stalk me isn’t enough so stop bitching and get over here.” Yuri put his arm around Otabek's shoulder and pulled him closer so they both fit into the frame.

The picture was a complete mess and Otabek hated it, which didn’t stop Yuri from slapping a bunch of filters on it and posting it anyways. A moment later his phone buzzed notifying him that Yuri had also tagged him in the picture, as though it wasn’t clear enough that it was him.

_@yuri-plisetsky: busting out some moves with @otabek-altin before the #europeanchampionships #winner_

Days later Otabek watched Yuri completely obliterate his competition—not that Michele, Georgi and Emil had stood any sort of chance against him to begin with—taking gold with what looked like ease from the outside but had been months and months of hard work in reality. If he’d perform this way at Worlds in April, Otabek would really have to give his best to win gold instead of Yuri. It was a challenge he very gladly accepted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All I wanted was for Otabek and Yuri to go skating at a rink during public hours, and then my friend sent me that song and things spiraled out of control from there on. Anyway, what do you guys think so far? Any good? Don't worry, I have grand plans and exciting things are coming up soon.
> 
> Also, since I'm always on the lookout for new music, if you decide to leave a comment, could you include a song you really like so I can check it out, please? Who knows, maybe it'll even inspire a chapter! :)


	3. Eventually (Age 17)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> not beta'd.

Yuri had never been a big fan of birthdays, especially his own one. Growing up he’d never had any parties thrown in his honor since it’d usually just been him and grandpa, especially after his parents were out of the picture and his grandma, Oxana, passed away. So when he woke up on the day of his 17th birthday it simply felt like any other shitty day.

He got up before sunrise, ate breakfast in the kitchen while leaning against a counter in complete silence barely making a sound—when he first moved in he’d made the mistake of being ‘loud’ while making breakfast and thus woken up Lilia, which of course resulted in her bitching at him louder than ever before because how dare he rip her out of her beauty slumber—and then left for the rink. He’d get there way too early, which was highly unusual for Yuri, but at least that way he wouldn’t give Yakov a reason to yell at him at fucking shit o’clock in the morning.

It was quiet outside at this time, the air crisp and calm, the tranquility only disrupted by the occasional car or fucked up cyclists biking between the traffic like they had an honest to god death wish on their hands. Yuri despised cyclists, even more so after that one time a guy had literally managed to run him over at a pedestrian crossing because apparently talking to someone on the phone was more important than looking where the fuck he was going. Yuri still had a faint scar on his arm from the incident.

“Happy birthday, Yurochka!” Mila screamed from the top of her lungs across the rink as she spotted him. All eyes turned toward Yuri and he was _this_ close to turning around and going back home not giving a fuck if Yakov would be angry. Mila got to him before he could decide, pulling him into a way too tight hug.

“Let me go you stupid hag!” he bellowed while trying to pry her off of him.

“Such an angry kitten, and here I thought you’d mature with age,” Mila teased, finally letting him go.

“And I thought you’d get less annoying and prettier so I guess we were both wrong.”

“You wound me, Yuri.” Dramatically she pretended to faint, throwing her right arm across her face. Maybe she should’ve become an actress instead, at least then she wouldn’t annoy him every single fucking day. Yuri rolled his eyes and walked off toward the ice. He wasn’t in the mood for Mila’s antics, and he didn’t need for the entire rink to know that it was his birthday.

What difference did it make anyway? He still looked and felt exactly the same. Seventeen was just the same as sixteen or fifteen, a number and nothing else.

The day only went downhill from that point on. Yakov seemed to be in an even worse mood than Yuri, screaming his, by now, red head off whenever any of them made even the tiniest mistake. Yuri wondered how the old man hadn’t given himself a stroke or popped a vessel just yet; then again he would probably never die and scream at them until each and every one ended their careers. He made Yuri repeat a quad-single-triple combination at least a million times even before the clock hit eleven, leaving Yuri already bruised and exhausted before the day really started, and before Lilia could torment him some more in her ballet studio.

Around noon, Victor and Katsudon showed up, both in way too cheerful moods, with cake and gifts for Yuri. He didn’t want the cake nor the gifts nor the attention but hell as if those two assholes would care. Resistance was futile so he played along hoping it would be over quicker that way, blew out the shitty white candles and put on a painfully obvious fake smile as he thanked the fuckers for the gifts—a Channel sweater (Victor) and a gorgeous ceramic Tiger (Yuuri). As much as he loved the expensive ass sweater simply because it was fucking Channel, he was loosing his shit over that ceramic tiger. It was dope as fuck, not that he would tell Yuuri that and give him the satisfaction of knowing he did something right, for once.

To make matters even worse Victor insisted on Mila taking a picture of him, Yuuri and Yuri for his Instagram. Yuri pulled the grumpiest face he could conjure up hoping it’d make Victor change his mind. Of course it didn’t.

Yuri’s phone had been blowing up all day with social media notifications and text messages from fans and people he barely considered acquaintances. There were only two people from whom he wanted to hear wishes, and neither had done so yet, which only added on to Yuri’s sour mood.

“Yuri, focus! Your free leg is sloppy and your posture is a downright disgrace,” Lilia hissed at him, poking a slender finger at his leg raised in an arabesque while her eyes almost seemed to cut his skin and body into pieces.

“Whatever,” he muttered under his breath while trying the pose once more.

“What was that?”

“Nothing.”

“That’s what I thought.”

And so it continued for what seemed like forever, each pose and sequence dragging on while Lilia’s annoyance only seemed to grow, her voice turning louder and louder while Yuri’s concentration fainter until it was basically nonexistent. This wasn’t how birthdays were supposed to be, was it? People were usually happy on their birthdays so why did Yuri just want the day to end right about now? He was pissed, tired, miserable, and done with the day.

But, in a sick and twisted way he enjoyed the hell Lilia was putting him through, enjoyed the aching of his muscles and the way ballet managed to clear his mind for the duration of the lesson. It always had something oddly calming to it, even with Lilia’s unsatisfied comments and Yuri’s need to snap back at her, which he tried to keep down to a minimum knowing it wouldn’t lead to anything good. Arguing with Yakov was entertaining; arguing with Lilia was a death wish.

“Happy birthday, Yuri,” Lilia said just as Yuri was about to reach the door. He stopped with his hand raised to the door handle and looked back at her over his shoulder. Seeing Lilia smile somehow terrified him more than when she yelled at him because he could never really tell if her smile served a purpose or if it was genuine.

“Spasibo.”

On his way from the studio to the shower his phone ripped him out of his thoughts as it blared loudly and smashed the silence around him. He was ready to press decline, unwilling to have to pretend happy one more time, until he actually read the caller ID.

“Grandpa!” he said, his mood immediately lifting. Maybe he hadn’t forgotten him after all.

“Yurochka,” he said, his voice so warm and familiar with its ever harsh undertone that Yuri loved so much. Not being able to have grandpa by his side on days like this one sucked major ass.

Standing in the hallway Yuri listened to his grandpa wishing him the moon and the stars, every gold medal he could ever wish for, especially at the upcoming Worlds, and all the happiness the world had to offer. Even though he would never admit it to anyone, he was close to crying. Not because he was sad, but because he was happy, grateful to have his grandpa, to not be alone even if he felt lonely more often than he was honestly willing to acknowledge.

Once their call ended Yuri felt much better, lighter somehow.

Just before six Lilia declared that she was leaving, though she didn’t specify where she was going and Yuri honestly didn’t give a shit anyways, so Yuri had the entire house to himself. That really didn’t mean much since his plan was to spend the rest of the day in his room watching stupid movies and not thinking about his birthday, or the one person that still hadn’t shown a sign of life.

His plan was changed when the doorbell rang half an hour later. Quickly he dragged himself over to the door to find a postal guy looking back at him with a package in hand. A signature later, Yuri unceremoniously slammed the door closed into the guys face without saying another word and then walked to the kitchen to get a pair of scissors or a knife.

Halfway to the kitchen he almost dropped the package as he looked down at the name and address stated under _From_ : Otabek Altin. Almaty, Kazakhstan.

Whatever was in that package, Yuri had to know what it was immediately. He almost sprinted into the kitchen while trying not to trip over any of Lilia’s fucking carpets. He hadn’t even realized how nervous he was until he noticed that his hands were lightly shaking as he cut open the tape wrapped around the package. Maybe Otabek hadn’t forgotten about him after all either.

Yuri’s face almost hurt as the biggest smile ever spread across it while he pulled out piece after piece from inside the package. Cat toys and treats of all colors, sizes and flavors littered the box. Otabek most certainly knew the way to his heart, that much was painfully clear. Between two boxes of treats Yuri found a small folded note with his name on it in a much too neat script. Yuri almost felt offended by it since his own handwriting was anything but neat.

_Happy birthday, Yura. I hope Oxana will like her presents. Yours is wrapped in paper._

_\- Otabek_

Short and to the point in typical Otabek fashion but still enough to make Yuri smile even more. He put the note aside and rummaged through the cat toys until he found something soft wrapped in light green paper. Whatever it was, Yuri already knew he loved it, even if it were just a pair of grey socks. They’d still be grey socks from Otabek making them the best socks ever.

The actual present was a million times better.

Yuri literally squealed as he pulled the Leopard _SpiritHoods_ from the paper, jumping around like a twelve-year-old and not giving a single shit. The faux fur was so fucking soft he could swear it actually felt like real fur, though the idea of touching the fur of a dead Leopard made Yuri sad. He couldn’t give less of a shit about many things, but killing Tigers, Leopards or Lions was the one thing that got to him, that made him both furious and disgustingly sad.

Pushing the thought aside, he put the hood on his head and ran out of the kitchen to find the closest mirror. It was absolutely fucking amazing; it fit perfectly and even had little ears and paw prints on the mittens at the end of the scarf part. Yuri so never wanted to take it off ever again, wondering if he could somehow convince the judges at Worlds that it was part of his costume. It wouldn’t fit with his FS costume whatsoever but he didn’t give a single shit.

It was _perfect_.

Lost in thoughts he almost lost his shit once the doorbell rang yet again disturbing the joyful and quiet atmosphere. This time it was a delivery guy handing him two bags filled with all sorts of containers of food Yuri most definitely hadn’t ordered, and was a hundred percent positive that Lilia hadn’t ordered any of it either.

“Who ordered this?” he asked the guy slightly perplexed.

“It comes with best wishes from Otabek Altin,” he answered and now Yuri was literally a fraction of a second away from loosing all his chill, all chill he ever fucking had because this was outrageous and impossible. How fucking dare he.

After dumping the food in the kitchen, next to the ripped open box and torn paper of which Oxana had taken quite the liking while he’d left the kitchen, Yuri went to his room to get his phone. He was in dire need of making a phone call right about fucking now.

“Yuri,” Otabek said, his voice cheerful and bright, two things no one would ever believe to be two words that could describe anything of Otabek’s, even if Yuri swore it was true.

“What the actual fuck?” was all Yuri managed to say, his entire body now literally shaking with excitement, joy and about a hundred different emotions he wasn’t prepared to deal with right now.

“I guess that means you got the package.”

“What the actual _fuck_?” Yuri repeated.

“Do you like it?”

Instead of answering, Yuri took the phone away from his ear and pressed the video call button, his screen quickly transforming from black to Otabek’s face. As far as Yuri could tell he was sitting in his kitchen at the small shitty table next to the window.

“Do I fucking like it?” Yuri said, raising and angling the phone just right so Otabek could see the hood in all its perfection on his head. “I fucking _love_ it, Beka!”

It wasn’t until Otabek’s face melted into one of those unguarded, genuine and private smiles that Yuri realized that he’d used that nickname for the first time. It’d felt right, natural. He’d definitely do it again.

“But what’s up with the food?”

“What would be a birthday without proper dinner and some cake?” Otabek offered with a small shrug. “Eat with me,” he added after a moment of silence while Yuri was trying his best to comprehend any of it.

“What?”

Instead of answering, Otabek turned his phone and showed Yuri his table. Dinner—not nearly as much as what waited for Yuri, but dinner no less. This was completely impossible, all of it. It had to be a dream because these fucking things just didn’t happen in real life. Yuri knew how to react to Victor buying him an overpriced sweater, because it was Victor and he expected no less from him, but Otabek going through the hassle of organizing all of this? It seemed way too much.

“You’re a fucking idiot, you know that?”

“Happy birthday, Yura.”

In that moment Yuri was thankful that the font camera of his phone was shit enough that it didn’t quite pick up how much he was blushing. No one had ever done something like this for Yuri. In seventeen years he never had a friend like Otabek, or a friend at all, someone who seemed to genuinely like him enough to do something as insane as this.

This was the sort of friendship Yuri never knew he wished for or deserved until he actually got it in form of Otabek. That moment right then as they sat in their own kitchens separated by hundreds of kilometers and three time zones made all those nights during which Yuri felt painfully lonely across all those years away from home so worth it, if that was what it took for him to deserve this.

Later that night Yuri posted a selfie with his new hood on Instagram, which was quickly reposted by the official _SpiritHoods_ account—he wasn’t surprised by their thirst to have him on their page, he was Yuri Plisetsky after all—which got him even more likes and new followers than usually. The only notification he cared about though was the one letting him know that @otabek-altin had liked his photo.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I found myself wondering what Otabek could get Yuri for his birthday which somehow led to me remembering the brand SpiritHoods, and the fact that they have a Leopard version of their signature hoods. I mean...????  
> Here's a link so you can check it out: https://www.spirithoods.com/collections/mens/products/leopard-spirithood
> 
> Somebody on tumblr actually went and drew Yuri wearing the SpiritHood mentioned in this chapter. Please check it out because it's just the cutest thing ever! http://superspicy.tumblr.com/post/158314448622/quick-drawing-before-bed-spirit-hoods-yurio
> 
> So, what do you guys think? Any feedback is more than welcome :)
> 
> Title taken from "Eventually" by Tame Impala


	4. Moan (Age 17)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title song: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=t64m5Lm7CrA
> 
> not beta'd.

One of the many things that came with being Yuri Plisetsky, the golden star on the Russian figure skating sky, was an inbox filled with different inquiries from brands inviting him to be part of their campaigns. Most of them went unanswered, or just received a courtesy thank you but hell no answer, simply because most of them seemed too wrapped around Yuri’s ‘Russian Fairy’ image that still followed him like fucking dog shit stuck to his boots.

He was seventeen for fucks sake. The fairy thing was funny and unique when he was thirteen and a kid, but now Yuri was ready for the world to see that he was getting older, more mature, and being part of a perfume commercial set in an enchanted forest with sparkling fairy wings attached to his back most definitely would not bring that point across.

But amongst all those stupid inquiries Yuri finally found one that intrigued him enough to open the email. It was an obscenely expensive fashion designer—there were at least two pieces from last years season neatly tucked away in Yuri’s closet—inviting him, along with that old geezer Victor, to be part of their upcoming fall line. It seemed like it was Yuri’s lucky day because finally someone was offering something he was actually interested in. Also the pay was stellar.

“This is so exciting,” Katsudon said as their taxi arrived in front of the building in which the photo shoot was held. Of course Victor insisted on dragging Katsudon along because apparently his heart would stop beating if he’d be separated from him again. The trauma from his stay in Ostrava without the pig was still haunting Victor, at least according to his very dramatic stories that Yuri so wasn’t interested in hearing.

“They should’ve invited you too,” Victor said and squeezed Katsudon’s hand. Yuri gagged and escaped out of the car. He would not let them ruin this day.

The building was an old industrial looking one made of red brick and metal, old windows that didn’t seemed like they had been replaced since the seventy’s and a giant wooden door leading inside. It reminded him a little of his grandpa’s place in Moscow.

“Mr. Nikiforov,” a young blonde woman wearing a way too tight dress said once they walked inside. “And Mr. Plisetsky. We are delighted that you’ve agreed to be part of this campaign. Everyone is ready for you. If you could follow me, please.”

As they began to walk Yuri could hear Victor quietly translating the completely trivial words the woman had spoken to them to Katsudon. Even though he’d been living in St. Petersburg with Victor for over a year now, his Russian still wasn’t that good, at least not when it came to formal conversations or people speaking really fast, which a lot of people did. Sometimes Yuri spoke extra fast in Russian just to piss Victor off and refused to switch to English.

“Whatever you might need, something to drink or to eat, just let me know and I will get it for you right away,” the blonde woman continued though Yuri barely paid any attention. He’d gotten the same speech and instructions during all the previous photo shoots he’d been part of so frankly he was already feeling bored.

Their first stop was make-up and hair. A whole flock of men and women fawned over Yuri and Victor, applied layer after layer of concealers, foundations, blushes and all sorts of other crap that Yuri didn’t really understand much. His face looked exactly the same after the first and third layer of foundation so why did he need that fucking much of it?

Next a chubby woman tried to not poke his eye out with a hellishly sharp black eyeliner, which turned out to be more of a challenge than she expected because Yuri hated anything that came near his eye. Keeping himself from blinking was barely possible. The fact that his eyes decided to tear up halfway through the process didn’t help much either.

He flipped Victor off once he noticed the old man chuckle next to him.

Once they were done turning his face into whatever it was supposed to be, they moved on to his hair. Usually when others combed his hair, especially his grandpa, it made him feel sleepy and relaxed, but the hectic manner with which the stylists operated had the exact opposite effect on him. They seemed even more merciless than Lilia, and that was saying a lot. Yuri didn’t appreciate any of it.

After the cloud of hairspray settled one of the stylists raised a mirror behind Yuri so he could see their handy work: an elaborate braid kept half his hair out of his face while the rest fell across his eye just the way it always did though somehow it now looked way cooler and sleeker than when Yuri tried to do it himself.

“Take a picture,” Yuri said to the stylist and held his phone toward him.

“I’m afraid everything surrounding todays shoot is strictly confidential until the campaign will be released in a few months,” he said sounding apologetic and something that oddly resembled fear. Maybe Yuri’s image had reached these people? Maybe they knew he wasn’t a fairy after all?

“It’s not for Instagram, idiot.”

“Yurio, be nice,” Victor cooed next to him.

“That’s not my fucking name, asshole,” Yuri hissed back. After all this time, why couldn’t they just let that fucking nickname go already? It stopped being funny after approximately two minutes, two fucking years ago.

In the end the stylist did as he was asked to do and snapped a few pictures of Yuri’s braid. Quickly before he’d be handed over to the people in charge of their outfits, Yuri pulled up his conversation with Otabek and sent him one of the pictures. Yuri wished Otabek could’ve been there with him because then this entire thing would be so much more fun, and the Nikiforov-Katsuki PDA would’ve been so much easier to ignore.

Yuri was tempted to ask whoever was in control to have Katsudon removed from the building because the PDA was distracting and disgusting. It didn’t happen because Victor stepped in and assured them that Yuri was just joking. He wasn’t.

The clothes were nothing short of stunning, and Yuri wanted to have all of it, even though he couldn’t afford even half of the things we wore for the first set. Admittedly even Victor looked good which almost pained Yuri to admit, even if he only did so in his head.

An assistant came around to lead them to the sets. The room was gigantic with a tall ceiling, dimmed lights and black flooring. Big spotlights and soft boxes stood everywhere illuminating the backdrops that seemed to mostly consist of solid black, deep burgundy or royal blue materials. Some guy operated a fog machine while another one two sets of silver metal fans.

But what caught Yuri off guard the most was the music, and the volume at which it was playing. Giant speaker towers stood in all four corners of the room and Yuri was starting to wonder how the hell he was supposed to understand any of the directions the photographer would give him.

“All right, Yuri,” the photographer basically yelled across the room at him. “Imagine you are a predator, gorgeous but deadly, like a tiger or black panther, and you’re trying to lure in your pray. Can you do that for me?”

Now they were talking, this was exactly what Yuri wanted. Out with the fairy agape innocence shit and in with the gorgeous predator ready to strike at any moment and kill his competition to get gold. Yuri had been at enough photo shootings before to know what he had to do, plus the seasons of _America’s Next Top Model_ —it had been his guilty pleasure and somehow he managed to keep it a secret from everyone, thankfully—he’d binge watched one summer were very helpful, too.

Once the photographer seemed to have gotten the shots he wanted, Yuri was led back for a change of clothing while Victor was placed in Yuri’s spot. Just behind the photographer and his entourage Yuri could see Katsudon watching Victor’s every move with that look in his eyes as though he was looking at the most beautiful thing in the world. Yuri looked away quickly.

Sometimes, ever so briefly, Yuri wondered how it’d feel like to have someone look at him the way Katsudon looked at Victor, or vice versa, to have someone love him just as much as those two seemed to love each other. Even quicker than those thoughts arose, Yuri pushed them away again because he didn’t need a fucking boyfriend to feel valid or happy. He was perfectly fine without a relationship and enjoyed his own company greatly, thank you very much.

Except during nights when his loneliness got to him and he wished that Lilia’s house were a little less empty and cold.

The next outfit was literally everything and Yuri couldn’t stop looking at himself in the mirror. He was aware of how he looked, people told him on a constant loop how good he looked, but damn, this was something else. This was everything fairy agape Yuri from two years ago wasn’t. This was everything Yuri wanted to be and fuck it felt great. He looked like the personification of a bad bitch, a fucking badass bad bitch. Suddenly he didn’t give a shit about the Nikiforov-Katsuki PDA anymore because he was actually having fun doing something that didn’t have anything to do with ice skating or ballet. Sure, he wished Otabek could be there to share this moment with him, but there was nothing he could do about that.

The music seemed even louder for the next set but Yuri was really into it even though it was unlike any of the things he usually listened to. If all photo shoots were like this his inbox would be way less crowded, the pile of rejections would decrease to a minimum and his bank account would state a much larger number.

Even the pictures he was taking with Victor were fun and damn they looked amazing. The people were not ready to see any of these pictures, honestly. While the photographer barked some instructions at the fog guy, Yuri pulled out his phone and opened Shazam to figure out what the hell that song was that seemed to be playing on repeat for the last thirty minutes.

Hours later Yuri fell onto his bed exhausted. His feet were killing him and he was developing a slight headache from having his hair in tight braids all day but he felt happy nonetheless.

After unlocking his phone he looked through the few pictures he managed to acquire from the shoot. Somehow he’d sweet talked one of the photographer’s assistants to give them to him while promising that he wouldn’t put them on social media. That promise hurt because those pictures would get him more likes than all the pictures currently on his profile combined, but he somehow managed to keep his finger away from Instagram. Instead he opened his conversation with Otabek.

Slowly he scrolled through the pictures trying to decide on which one he liked best, attached the title of the song (along with a link) that had been playing during the shoot—Moan (Trentemoller Remix) by Trentemoller—and pressed send.

It wasn’t until the message status switched to seen that Yuri realized, horrified, what implications the song, and especially its title, brought along. It wasn’t just any song. It was a deliberately sexy song in that non-obvious simmering just under the surface kind of way. It was the kind of music they usually used in movies during hot, sweaty sex scenes. Yuri’s mouth turned dry and without thinking about it any further he completely shut off his phone and shoved it under his pillow.

 

* * *

 

The only thing Otabek had to go by all day from Yuri’s shoot was the sole picture he’d sent him of his braided hair, which didn’t give away anything at all. In the mirror he could see that Yuri had makeup on his face and was surrounded by people but that was it, nothing else. For some reason Yuri refused to tell him what that photo shoot was for, though he let slip that it was fashion related, which made Otabek wonder why only more. What was so special about that shoot that made Yuri feel the need to keep it secret even from him?

Luckily he somehow managed to occupy his mind with practice most of the day and quiet dinner out in the city. He usually didn’t go out to eat alone, but that way he could keep his mind off of Yuri and the excruciatingly long time he had to wait to hear from him.

Otabek realized then just how used he had gotten to their constant exchange of messages and pictures, of how used he’d gotten to having Yuri in his life even if he was in a completely different country. Yuri was his first proper friend, the friend he always wanted to have, and someone who understood him in ways no one else did. Yuri could read Otabek just as well as Otabek could read Yuri, could see through all the angry fits and all the empty insults he was throwing around like confetti at anyone who was within earshot.

Just after midnight, as he was about to give up, turn off his light and go to sleep, his phone chimed with a text notification. He put his book aside and picked up his phone, delighted by the fact that the text was from Yuri. The text contained a picture and a link to what appeared to be a song.

His mouth went dry the second he opened the picture while the song was quietly playing in the background. Fuck. _Fuck_. Otabek wasn’t the type of person who swore, unlike Yuri, but _fuck me_.

Standing in front of a blood red background was Yuri, his head held high, his eyes looking straight into the camera ready to cut the viewer if he didn’t deliver the right reaction, fierce and filled with fire. The eyeliner brought out Yuri’s eyes and his hair was done perfectly. His outfit consisted of a flawlessly white dress shirt, a black blazer with silver spikes of varying sizes and lengths all across the shoulders, really tight black skinny jeans and black, polished high heels.

Otabek wondered if Yuri was aware of what effect the picture would have on him when he hit send because right now Otabek was a hundred percent positive that not even he was sure he’d been prepared for his own reaction. That picture was doing things to him he wasn’t sure he was ready to deal with just yet. He knew the wisest thing would be to close the picture, tell Yuri he looked great in it—fuck he looked breathtakingly gorgeous in it—and go to sleep but he simply couldn’t take his eyes off of the picture no matter how much he reasoned with himself.

_Fuck._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I stumbled upon that song on the "The Young Pope" soundtrack (such a good show) and somehow this chapter happened. 
> 
> Thoughts? :)


	5. Help (Age 17-18)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title song: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HggiUVgTvig
> 
> not beta'd.

Phone calls coming in at night were never a good omen because good news was never delivered at night. So when Yuri’s name, of all people, illuminated Otabek's screen at 4:07 am turning off the sound and going back to sleep immediately stopped being an option. He didn’t feel sleepy anymore. Instead he turned concerned and almost afraid from one moment to the other. In those few seconds it took him to accept the call and raise the phone to his ear, his mind presented him with a long list of things that might’ve happened starting with Yuri had seen a really funny cat video and couldn’t contain himself, and ended with Yuri was about to or already dead and they were calling him to inform him about it.

“Yura?” he asked, cautiously.

And there it was, the one thing that sucker punched him even more than his worried mind: Yuri was crying. No, he wasn’t crying. Crying implied silent tears, sadness and a strange calmness. Yuri wasn’t calm, he was sobbing uncontrollably and loudly, his breathing hitched and distorted even more by hiccups.

Yuri tried to say something but his words were barely understandable. Otabek only managed to make out four, but those were more than enough to make him jump out of his bed and power walk to his laptop.

_Moscow. Hospital. Grandpa. Help._

“I’ll be there as soon as I can, all right?” Otabek said, trying to sound as calm as humanly possible even though he was practically anything but that. “I’ll take the first flight to Moscow I can get, I promise.”

While he booked his ticket he continued talking to Yuri. He wasn’t saying anything substantial or meaningful but he hoped it’d help him somehow. The one thing he didn’t do was being up those empty phrases that usually came to people like a reflex in moments like this, phrases like “don’t worry, everything will be okay” or “stay strong, he’ll be all right is no time, you’ll see” because he didn’t know if everything would be okay so why should he say it?

He heard such things on a constant loop years ago while he sat at the hospital with his grandma, and he could still remember how hearing it all just made him feel worse. The words gave him hope that everything would be okay, which only made the pain so much more harrowing once she passed away hours later. He didn’t want Yuri to feel like that.

Once they ended the call, Otabek threw together a few things before grabbing his keys, jacket and helmet. He still had to text or call his coach but it had to wait until he’d be at the airport knowing that he’d make the flight at 6:15 am. Luckily the streets were relatively empty so getting there took much less time than it usually did.

The airport was quiet at this time with barely any passengers waiting in the lines and a minimum of people waiting for arrivals. Otabek wished that this were how airports looked like each time he had to fly somewhere, but usually everything was different.

Usually he felt stressed because he hated flying. Usually he was worried because a competition was coming up. Usually when he flew to Russia, a smiling Yuri would wait for him in St. Petersburg ready to drown him in stories and plans of what they would do during his stay.

But today everything was different. Today when he thought of Yuri his heart ached knowing that he was alone in a hospital sitting next to his grandpa crying out of fear that he’d loose him. Crying because, once that’d happen, he would be completely alone, the last Plisetsky. Crying because he knew there was absolutely nothing he could do and Otabek knew how much Yuri hated that feeling.

Sitting in the waiting area at his gate, Otabek pulled out his phone to finally text his coach. He could only hope that he’d understand. Truthfully this wasn’t the time when he was normally allowed to leave since his first Grand Prix competition was just over a month away and he should be practicing until he’d collapse on the ice, but Otabek knew he wouldn’t be able to concentrate on anything right now. Maybe it was foolish but didn’t it show that he genuinely cared about Yuri? He was his best friend after all, and as his best friend, he had to be by his side during times like this.

Luckily the flight from Almaty to Moscow only took two hours, and thanks to the lack of delays Otabek reached the right hospital just after 9:00 am. He hated hospitals, though probably everyone. They weren’t places meant to be liked.

Yuri hadn’t mentioned on which floor or in which room his grandpa was, so Otabek approached the information lady who looked tired and grumpy, shadows underlined her eyes, and there was a very yellow stain on her shirt. “Morning, I’m looking for Nikolai Plisetsky,” Otabek said trying to sound friendly.

“Name? ID?” she asked barely even looking up at him. If Otabek didn’t know just how pesky reporters were, even when at the hospital, he’d be surprised by her request, but he’d been here before himself. Quickly he pulled out his passport and handed it over to her.

She handed it back to him, her expression never changing, and then told him the floor and room number before returning to whatever she was doing before.

“Beka!” he heard an all too familiar voice call out before a body crashed into him. _Yuri_. “You came.”

Breaking out of his stupor, Otabek wrapped his arms around Yuri’s slimmer frame and pulled him closer against his chest. Yuri did the same, his arms around Otabek’s middle, his body lightly shaking.

“Of course I did,” Otabek said, calmly. He pulled back a little than so he could look at Yuri, see if his worries were right. Yuri was crying again, his tears silent though still just as heartbreaking as the sobbing he’d heard five hours ago. Seeing it was a million times worse than just hearing it.

Yuri looked like a mess. His eyes were puffy, red and endlessly sad, his hair tangled and fuzzy with strands sticking out everywhere, and his clothes mismatched. He looked smaller, more fragile and vulnerable than Otabek had ever seen him look like before.

“I’m so afraid,” Yuri said avoiding his eyes, his voice nothing more than a whisper.

Instead of saying anything, knowing that words were useless right now, Otabek pulled him back into the hug, one arm around his back and the other reaching around his shoulder and neck, his hand cradling the back of Yuri’s head. Yuri seemed to welcome the hug, responding to it by wrapping his arms tighter around Otabek, hanging on to him as though his life depended on it, like he was the only thing that kept him from drowning. Who knew, maybe he could be just that, Yuri’s anchor and strength during times when he didn’t have enough of it on his own. Otabek would take any role in Yuri’s life he could get.

There were a million things Otabek wanted to say but felt unable to. He wanted to tell Yuri that everything would be okay, that he shouldn’t worry because Nikolai was strong, that he was there for him, that he wouldn’t leave him, stay with him until everything would be okay again, but he couldn’t do it. It wouldn’t be fair to say any of it, wouldn’t help Yuri at all. Nothing he could say or even do would make the situation better. It was endlessly frustrating.

“He said…he said he’d like to talk to you,” Yuri said after a while, his words barely audible and shaky.

“What?”

“I don’t know.” He pulled back then, enough to look up at Otabek. “When I told him you were coming, he said he’d want to talk to you. Didn’t say about what though. He fell asleep before I could ask.”

Otabek was confused as to why Nikolai would want to talk to him specifically. He also wanted to know how he ended up in the hospital in the first place, but concluded that asking Yuri would only make him cry again and that was the last thing he wanted to cause.

“I got you something,” Otabek said, remembering. It was silly and embarrassing but that didn’t matter. “It’s nothing special, really.”

“Shut up,” Yuri said, his usual self shining through the sadness and fear for just a fraction of a second, though he words lacked the usual edge. “Show me.”

Yuri’s eyes lit up once Otabek handed him the cat plushy he’d gotten at the airport. It was relatively small with black stripes across light brown fur and green eyes that were just a shade or two off from Yuri’s. The cashier had asked him if the cat was for his sister or girlfriend to which Otabek had only smiled.

A peculiar sense of nervousness crept up on Otabek as he walked into the hospital room and was met with the steady beeping of the heart monitor next to the bed. Several other machines stood next to it, but Otabek had no idea what most of them did. In the bed itself he found Nikolai who looked white as a sheet and calm, a kind of calm Otabek couldn’t explain.

“Hello, Nikolai,” Otabek said once he sat down on the chair next to the hospital bed.

When he’d met the man for the first time a year ago after the Rostelecom Cup, Nikolai insisted that Otabek would drop the formalities and simply call him by his first name. He said that it would seem weird for his grandson’s best friend to call him Mr. Plisetsky, especially when he was already considered almost something like family. It meant a lot to Otabek even though Yuri had looked like he wanted nothing more than for the ground to swallow him whole out of embarrassment.

“Otabek,” he said, his voice weak and nothing like the strong dark tone he remembered. “It’s good to see you.”

“How are you?” It was a stupid question but it escaped Otabek before he could stop himself from asking it.

Nikolai smiled faintly, the corners of his mouth barely moving. “I’ve had better days.”

“Yuri said you wanted to talk to me.”

“Yurochka, he’s a good boy,” Nikolai said, his tone tainted by fondness as he spoke despite how weak his voice was. “He’s so strong but he needs you, now more than ever. I know this is hard for him, the timing less than ideal with his first competition coming up. You mean a lot to him, you know? He’s never really had a friend, never seemed this happy when talking about another person as he does when he talks about you. You’re good for him.”

“He means a lot to me, too.”

“I know.” There was something in the way Nikolai said those two words that made Otabek wonder if the old man knew something he didn’t. “Back when Oxana died, Yuri was heartbroken so I went and got him a cat. As you know, he named that cat Oxana, after his grandmother. Little Yuri, I think, made himself believe that, even though grandma the person was gone, she was still by his side in form of that cat. It helped him, especially once he moved to St. Petersburg to train under Yakov a few weeks later. That cat became his constant companion, this piece of home he had with him keeping him company and helping him get rid of his loneliness.”

Otabek didn’t know that Yuri named his cat after his grandmother since he never brought it up and he’d never asked. He just assumed that Yuri liked the name. Nikolai’s words made him think back to the time he’d seen Yuri for the first time, the ten-year-old boy with the eyes of a soldier. Considering what Nikolai told him, he now realized that Yuri was even stronger than Otabek thought he was. But the thought of Yuri sitting along in his room feeling lonely so far away from home, hugging his cat at night, it saddened Otabek.

“You have to do something for me, and I know this is a lot to ask for, but I know you’re the only person that’ll be able to.” He paused again, waiting for a reaction. Unsure if he should say something, Otabek simply nodded. “Once I’ll be gone, take care of Yurochka, help him, will you? I know this will be devastating for him, and I wish I could stop it, but I’m afraid I can’t. I know, being in two different countries along with competitive skaters with busy schedules, following my request won’t be easy, but I know you’ll be able to. Just talking to him, trying to take his mind off of overthinking things, it’ll be enough. He won’t admit it, you know how he is, but he will need help and I know you’re the only person from whom he’ll accept it.”

“Of course,” Otabek said and tried to smile even though his heart was aching. He couldn’t believe Nikolai deemed him to be the right person to ask this of, trusted him enough. Even though he knew it’d be hard, he would do it. Of course he would, even if Nikolai hadn’t asked him to.

Nikolai reached out and took Otabek’s hand, squeezing it lightly as though to seal the deal.

“You’re a good guy, Otabek,” he said with a faint smile, his voice tired. “I’m sure one day Yurochka will realize that, too.”

The moment Nikolai Plisetsky’s heart stopped beating hours later marked the beginning of the end.

Together with Yakov, Otabek helped Yuri organize the funeral. To everyone’s surprise, Yuri somehow managed to hold himself together enough to do it, participating in every aspect of the preparations, taking care of as much as he was able to.

Just like he’d promised, Otabek kept an eye on Yuri from afar ready to step in whenever the younger boy would show a sign of the impending downfall, the moment the dam would break. It was inevitable, they all knew it.

The news of Nikolai’s death quickly made its round among the skaters. It started with Phichit, closely followed by Guang-Hong and Leo, then the Crispino twins and their Czech friend, Emil, Chris and that quiet Korean guy, Seung-Gil. To everyone's surprise even JJ called, though he’d been smart enough to call Otabek instead of Yuri. All of them offered kind, well meaning words and condolences which Yuri took without calling any of them out or cursing. Otabek was shocked because that _never_ happened when Yuri had to interact with most of them. Than again, this wasn’t a conversation held before a competition but a time of grief and loss, both leaving their all too apparent marks on Yuri.

Those who could offered to fly in for the funeral but Yuri declined saying that he wanted this to be small and private. Otabek knew that the main reason was that Yuri didn’t want them to see him cry, show weakness in any sort of way even if it was more than justified, and he didn’t want the public to know. Having different international skaters fly in all at the same time would definitely raise questions and he wanted to avoid that. Otabek understood that perfectly.

At some point Otabek’s mother, his father, and even his younger sister and older brother took their time to individually call Yuri and ask how he was holding up. It was a kind gesture. Otabek still remembered the day Yuri had met his family and how nervous he’d been, which turned out to be completely unnecessarily because they almost immediately started treating Yuri like family.

The rest of the Russian team, along with Victor and Yuuri (who respectively asked at least seventeen times if Yuri was sure that they shouldn't fly in), texted Otabek several times a day asking for updates on Yuri. They were all worried, concerned as to what effect Nikolai’s death would have on the quickly approaching season. Otabek asked Yakov if maybe they should consider the option of letting Yuri simply skip the Grand Prix, but they both knew Yuri would never let that happen. No matter how much Yuri was hurting, he was stubborn as all hell so no matter how much they’d reason, he wouldn’t listen.

After the funeral Otabek had to return to Almaty. His coach was trying to show understanding, but at the same time reminded him that he had to think of his own career, too, no matter how much he disliked the idea of leave Yuri.

Together they drove to the airport. Yuri’s flight back to St. Petersburg was two hours after Otabek’s. Although he knew that Yuri would be okay, somehow, it still hurt to say goodbye and return to his life. But he had no other choice, neither of them had one.

After their final hug, Otabek walked toward his gate willing himself not to look back one more time. He had to make himself believe that Yuri would be okay. His rink mates, cat, and Victor and Yuuri were waiting for him at home. They could text and call each other, just like they always did. It would be okay, somehow.

 

* * *

 

Absolutely nothing was okay. Everything sucked and Yuri hated every single second of every single fucking day that followed the funeral. He tried so hard to not let his grieving and the pain of losing his grandpa get him down, but it was much harder than Yuri had anticipated.

Every morning he woke up in pain. His heart hurt, his eyes stung, and his body was exhausted. His sleep was haunted by memories and nightmares causing him to wake up several times, sometimes even screaming. Yuri had never felt this alone in his entire life and he had no idea how to deal with it. He desperately wanted to ask grandpa how he managed to continue living after grandma died, but that would never happen. Yuri would never be able to ask his grandpa anything ever again. He’d never tell him stories again, would never make him pirozkhis or call him after a competition to congratulate him.

Grandpa was gone. Forever. It hurt so bad, more than any bruise or injury Yuri had ever had combined, more than he honestly thought he was able to survive.

Lilia had come to his room the first few times he woke up screaming and crying. No matter how much Yuri tried to tell her to fuck off and leave him alone, she stayed. She sat down on the edge of his bed every time and lightly touched his hair looking at him with concern, more concern and emotions showing on her face than he’d ever seen before. It freaked him out, but at the same time it made him feel less alone even though he felt like that was all he wanted to be. Alone.

Otabek called every day and talked about anything, nothing, and everything. Yuri knew what he was doing, trying to distract him, pull his mind off of things. It usually worked, but not for long. Somehow Yuri always ended up bringing up an anecdote involving his grandpa. He ended the call each time before Otabek could hear him cry, though he knew that the older boy was well aware that that was exactly what was happening. Thankfully he never brought it up. He never laughed or made fun of him for being so incredibly weak.

Otabek simply understood him wordlessly.

The first Grand Prix competition of the season came up sooner than Yuri was ready for it. Skate America came and passed in a blur leaving Yuri with a bronze medal for which he had to fight tooth and nail. He flubbed a jump completely, touched down during two other ones. He was a mess beginning to end and he hated every fucking second of it. He was better than this.

After they returned to St. Petersburg, Yuri stopped talking for days, ignored everyone and everything except for Yakov’s and Lilia’s instructions. He stopped answering texts, ignored social media notifications, and even went as far as finally deleting Instagram and Twitter from his phone. Sometimes he just left it lying on his nightstand for days, the battery dead. It didn’t matter.

Yuri still went to practice but after a certain time he always excused himself to break down silently in a desolate corner of the arena or in his room at Lilia’s. Neither Yakov nor Lilia knew how to pull Yuri out of his pit and were more than shocked by Yuri’s passiveness. When Lilia reprimanded him he didn’t bite back and instead did as he was told completely wordlessly. Under other circumstances Lilia would praise him for it, seeing as he was now trying harder than ever before, but instead she just looked at him in that concerned, almost pitying way that pissed Yuri off. But he didn’t have the energy or mind to tell her so.

Yuri even seemed immune to Mila’s usually behavior, where normally he’d call her out and scream, now he just looked at her with empty eyes and continued whatever it was he was doing. He simply didn’t have the energy left to say or do anything besides skating and ballet. And really, those two things became the only things he was consciously doing, pouring his soul out onto the ice during practice because it managed to diminish the pain just a little bit, allowed him to breath, even if only briefly.

Trophée de France came and went with another bronze, making Yuri feel even more ashamed for his poor results. This wasn’t like him. He could see the way everyone was looking at him, could see the pity in their eyes and it made him angry. Yuri didn’t want to be pitied, didn’t want their words of condolences and concern. He wanted them all to fuck off and leave him alone.

The incest twins invited him to dinner, which he declined by walking away. Chris wanted to take him out for a drink, help him forget, despite the fact that Yuri wasn’t allowed to drink yet. Phichit offered to watch a movie together, something happy and mind numbing, which sounded like the last thing Yuri wanted to do, ever.

Even fucking JJ took pity on him and asked if he’d like to go out for dinner with him and his wife. Not even over Yuri’s cold, dead body. He flipped him off and went to his hotel room instead, put on his headphones with really loud metal music playing and waited until it was time to fly home.

He came in third at the Grand Prix Final but only by a tiny fraction because Leo touched down on the ice twice. Yuri wasn’t happy with any of this. He was angry, and sad, and just so done. He just wanted the season to be over already so he could hole up in his room and forget the world around him.

The rest of the season was one giant shit show. He didn’t medal at anything besides the Russian Nationals. He returned to not talking, pushed everyone away and tried to completely isolate himself from the world. Everything he did reminded him of grandpa. Every time he did something, saw something, thought of something he wanted to call him and tell him about it, which only resulted in the pain pushing him down again, the fact that he would never be able to tell his grandpa anything ever again.

He was gone, forever. Grandpa would never return. The only thought that gave Yuri at least a tiny bit of consolation was that grandpa was finally reunited with grandma. He imagined them watching him and fuck it hurt only more.

Yuri had never felt this alone in eighteen years. Everyone was dead. His parents were dead. His grandparents were dead. Yuri was the last one standing, the last Plisetsky still alive. Months had passed since grandpa died and Yuri wondered just how many more tears he could shed until there would be none left. Would he ever reach a point where he wouldn’t be able to cry anymore, when the pain would begin to turn bearable or even start to fade? Would his life ever return to how it used to be when he didn’t hate waking up and doing anything?

Skating had always made him happy. Ballet had always made him happy. Silly cat videos or pictures had always made him happy.

Now nothing made him happy anymore.

Not Otabek who was trying so hard to keep in touch, none of Victor’s overpriced gifts, not his cat and the affection she showed him. After the European Championships, Yuuri and Victor offered that Yuri could move in with them so he wouldn’t be alone, and also get a change of scenery. Reluctantly Yuri agreed, mainly because he didn’t have the strength left to decline or argue. It was fine at first, nice even. They ate breakfast and dinner together, and Victor and Yuuri really made an effort to include Yuri in their plans and spend time with him. But before Worlds came around, Yuri couldn’t take their happiness anymore and moved back to Lilia. She accepted him without arguments, which surprised Yuri since he’d been prepared for her to decline.

Mila came by again and again bringing ice cream, pizza, and a seemingly endless assortment of cat videos but none of it managed to lift Yuri’s mood. Even Georgi came by a couple of times with stories and advice on how to manage grief since he’d lost both his grandparents, too. Yuri appreciated it, really he did, but it still made him feel worse instead of better. Worse because he just couldn’t do it, he couldn’t move on, couldn’t find his way back and that pissed him off endlessly. This wasn’t like him. He was stronger than this. He had to be.

Sometimes at night he’d call Otabek and allow himself to bathe in his misery and tears while listening to the soothing voice of his only friend, his best friend, the only person that somehow managed to make him feel better, at least a little. No matter at what time he’d call or text, he could always count on Otabek to answer.

Honestly Yuri had no fucking idea how he deserved any of it or why Otabek hadn’t given up on him yet considering all the bullshit he had to listen to and deal with. At the same time the mere thought of losing Otabek caused Yuri physical pain. In moments like these, especially at night when he couldn’t fall asleep and felt endlessly lonely, he hugged the cat plushy Otabek had given him close to his chest—secretly wishing that instead of the plushy he could hug the man himself—and somehow it helped him calm down enough to fall asleep, at least for a little while.

Besides Otabek everything was shit. Nothing he ate tasted like anything. Every movie he tried to watch somehow reminded him of grandpa and made him cry. On top of everything, as though life didn’t hate him enough just yet, his body also decided to sucker punch him with grow spurts and an emotional and hormonal overkill that honestly made Yuri wish he could just lie down and die already.

Yuri was hopeless, lost, alone, and felt as though a part of him died along with grandpa.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I warned you that there will be some angst and well, here we go! This was one of the first chapters I planned when I realized that this story would turn out bigger than I anticipated. After those more fun chapters, it was definitely interesting to write something much sadder, hah. This is definitely more my forte than happy/fun/positive chapters.
> 
> What do you think? Let me know in the comments, I love to read your opinions, and/or leave a kudos! :)


	6. Song To Say Goodbye (Age 18)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title song: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=e7bxXjQL3cY
> 
> not beta'd.

Otabek stood and watched as Yuri took the ice for his Free Skate. On the outside Yuri looked completely normal, concentrated even, but Otabek could see the unrest that simmered beneath the surface. It made him nervous, even though he wasn’t the one on the ice. As he began to skate, Otabek couldn’t shake the feeling that this time watching Yuri wasn’t compelling because of his artistry or brilliant movements, the splendid choreography or his costume, but rather because it felt like he was watching an accident happening right in front of him.

At the Cup of China Yuri somehow managed to get his fingers on bronze, though it had almost been painful to watch, yet at the NHK Trophy, both their second competition, Otabek could pinpoint the exact moment when Yuri quite literally crashed and burned. He fell after his first jump, which started a series of utmost unfortunate events resulting in Yuri falling after every quad, touching down after every triple, and his spins looked unsteady.

Quietly JJ appeared next to Otabek, his eyes practically glued to Yuri just like everybody else’s, while he asked, “Is he okay?” It sounded like he was genuinely concerned.

Otabek couldn’t remember the last time he could’ve honestly said that Yuri was okay. As he watched the second half of his program, Otabek all but felt like he’d been shot. He’d never seen Yuri skate like this and frankly, he wished he never would’ve had to. He wanted to tell JJ that no, Yuri wasn’t okay, that he promised he would take care of Yuri, help him, protect him but found himself at a loss for words and options quicker than he was prepared for it. He felt like he failed, because looking at Yuri all but limping through the last few seconds of his performance doing his best not to let the pain show, how could Otabek not feel like that?

He turned to look at JJ who lightly nodded in response, understanding his silence as answer, before placing his hand on Otabek’s shoulder and squeezing it lightly. No matter how much Yuri hated JJ, he wasn’t that bad of a guy, at least not always. After a moment, JJ sighed and walked away. They both knew that this wasn’t how it was supposed to be.

The music came to an end and Yuri pulled himself together just enough to hold his final pose until the music faded away and he all but collapsed onto the ice. Yuri hit the ice with his knees, his arms following, hands balled into fists, and his forehead resting on the ice surrounded by strands of hair. It took immense willpower for Otabek not to jump onto the ice and help him, but he knew he couldn’t do that. Instead all he could do was watch as Yuri somehow got back up onto his feet and dragged himself across the ice and toward the kiss and cry where he folded in on himself between Yakov and Lilia.

Yuri didn’t cry once they announce his score. He didn’t cry as Otabek climbed the podium and the gold medal was hung around his neck while JJ and Emil Nekola stood to his sides. He didn’t cry or scream when the pesky reporters asked him, again and again, what happened out on the ice and how it was possible that Yuri Plisetsky had come in 6th. He also didn’t cry when they boarded the plane back to St. Petersburg two day later.

Weeks ago they’d decided that Otabek would stay with him at Lilia’s in St. Petersburg before they’d fly out to the Grand Prix Final together. Since Otabek’s coach and Yakov were old acquaintances—they’d skated competitively at the same time, though Yakov was ten years older—Yakov had offered that his coach could stay at his place. He had more than enough space. Back then they’d been sure Yuri would qualify, but he didn’t. Otabek always wanted to beat Yuri, to take gold while he’d take silver, but this wasn’t the way he wanted it to happen. He wanted to beat Yuri fair and square while both of them gave their best on the ice. Winning against Yuri who barely even managed to finish his program didn’t count and rather felt like a slap in the face.

Once they boarded the plane, Yuri curled up in a ball on his seat, which now that he was at least a few centimeters taller than he used to be, wasn’t quite as easy anymore but he didn’t seem to care. Otabek sat next to him and watched him with concern, waiting for the moment Yuri would inevitably break all over again.

During the summer when they started to work on their new programs, Otabek felt a glimmer of hope that Yuri was doing better. He poured his heart and soul into practice and all but mastered his short program and free skate like they were nothing, the easiest choreographies he’d ever had to learn. In reality, both were easily the hardest ones Yuri had ever had but Victor had faith in him, knew he was capable of doing it. Of course he was.

In some of the videos Yuri had sent him from practice Otabek could even see him faintly smile like he was actually having fun again. The nights in which Yuri called him crying and falling apart began to happen fewer, sometimes with weeks between them, giving Otabek hope. Maybe Yuri would be okay, maybe he was slowly reaching a point where he could accept that he had to continue his life and move on, as much as possible, instead of dwelling on the past and his grief. He knew Nikolai wouldn’t want that, would want Yuri to move on and not let himself be held back by his death. But the road to recovery, healing and acceptance wasn’t quite that easy and smooth, unfortunately.

But now as he watched him on the plane, Otabek knew that all his hope had been in vain though he didn’t quite understand the extend of Yuri’s despair until their second night in St. Petersburg.

Usually, once he went to bed, Otabek didn’t wake up until the next morning. He wasn’t necessarily a heavy sleeper, but it did take a certain amount of noise or commotion to wake him up. That night though he woke up seemingly for no reason at all. All the lights in Yuri’s room were off, Oxana slept on the windowsill and it was quiet, too quiet. Otabek sat up on his mattress wanting to check on Yuri, make sure he was still asleep, but found his bed empty. His covers hung half off of the bed and his phone was gone too.

That in and of itself already alarmed Otabek because it couldn’t mean anything good.

Otabek got out of bed and walked over to the door. The hallway was mostly dark except for the little sliver of light coming in through the crack under the bathroom door, and the fact that the door itself wasn’t closed but ajar. Slowly he padded across the floor and listened.

_Oh no._

Even though he’d known it would happen, sooner or later, it still shook him to the core. There it was, the faint sound of Yuri crying emerging from the bathroom. Otabek’s mouth turned dry and his heart picked up. Before he reached the door, he took a deep breath and closed his eyes for just a moment, preparing himself. No matter how much it hurt him to see Yuri this way and feel powerless to help him, he had to be strong exactly because of it. He had to be strong for Yuri, simple as that.

But then his foot touched something lying on the floor. He stopped and bent down to see what it was. Yuri’s phone, the screen cracked and most definitely not functional anymore. This was bad, really bad. After he’d seen the concern on JJ’s face, he was sure that this time he definitely wasn’t the cause of whatever was going on. So what happened?

“Yuri?” he asked, quietly, as he pushed the door slowly open.

Yuri sat on the floor with his back against the wall, his head resting on his pulled up knees while a golden halo surrounded him. It took Otabek a moment to realize that the golden halo was in fact made of Yuri’s hair. Hair that wasn’t attached to his head anymore. A pair of silver scissors lay on the floor halfway across the bathroom. Yuri must’ve thrown them after he was done with his handiwork.

With a few quick steps Otabek crossed the distance and couched down in front of Yuri. He didn’t look up, didn’t react at all as though he hadn’t heard Otabek or realized that he really was there.

“Yura?” he tried again, unsure if he should reach out and touch him.

“I can’t do this,” Yuri said, his voice muffled and weak.

“You can’t do what?”

Instead of answering, Yuri unwrapped one arm and pointed toward something. A pile of paper? Confused, Otabek reached for it to see what it was exactly and how it managed to upset Yuri enough to get him into a state like this.

It was a newspaper with Yuri’s face plastered across the front along with a series of shots from his SP and FS. Each of the pictures showed Yuri either touching down on the ice or falling. Quickly he scanned the article that came along with it and understood immediately. The article talked about how obviously Yuri Plisetsky wasn’t a worthy successor to Victor Nikiforov’s legacy, that their hope had been in vain, that Yuri was nothing more than a one hit wonder, an angry delinquent not worthy of their attention and of representing Russia on the international stage.

The more he read the angrier Otabek got. Yuri didn’t deserve this. No one deserved this. How could they go and write such things, accuse him of being nothing but a fraud with a loud mouth and nothing to back it up? Hadn’t Yuri gone through enough yet? Didn’t Yuri’s gold medals show that he was worthy? He balled the paper and threw it across the room. He definitely understood why Yuri had shattered his phone, could imagine what was going on online if even the papers were running such garbage.

“I should just give up, retire and disappear,” Yuri suddenly continued. “Maybe they are right. Maybe I’m just not good enough after all. Victor should’ve stayed since it’s him they want, not me. I’m nothing, no one.”

“That’s not true,” Otabek said, his voice as calm and soothing as he managed to make it. “Just ignore it. It doesn’t matter. You can still show them how good you are at Nationals, or Euros or Worlds.”

“Whenever they look at me, they don’t see _me_ , they just see _him_.” _Oh._

“Is that why?”

Yuri nodded ever so lightly before his body began to shake and he cried once more. It broke Otabek’s heart to see him this way, to hear his quiet whimpers, to read all these disgusting things they had to say, their disregard toward what their words would do to Yuri, and the fact that they didn’t want Yuri for Yuri but because of Victor, whom they couldn’t have anymore. No matter what Yuri did, he still stood in Victor’s shadow because they didn’t allow him to leave it. To them he wasn’t Yuri, he was merely Victor 2.0, nothing more than a consolation prize they did not want.

Otabek knew Yuri loved his hair, loved how long it was even if he complained about it more often than not because it was constantly tangled or falling into his face. But he also knew that it reminded the public of young Victor with his then long silver hair.

Judging by the long strands of blond hair, Otabek knew Yuri had cut off a lot of it, but he wasn’t too sure of the exact extent of Yuri’s wrath. How much was still there and how much of a mess was it? Not that it mattered. Yuri would always be beautiful to him, even if he would shave his head completely. Hair was just hair, it’d grow back in time.

“I thought I could do this, hell I enjoyed the attention and love I got, but now I don’t know anymore. I’m just so fucking alone and I don’t know what to do, it’s too fucking much.”

Finally he raised his head and looked at Otabek. It was a perfect picture of complete misery and heartbreak. Yuri’s eyes looked like glass, red and welled with tears. Otabek got down on his knees next to Yuri and pulled him into a hug. He didn’t care if their position was awkward or that Yuri’s hair was sticking to his legs. It didn’t matter.

“You’re not alone, Yura,” he said, nothing more than a quiet whisper against Yuri’s hair. “I’m always here for you, even if I’m not physically there.”

“I’m so tired,” was Yuri’s way of acknowledging his words.

Once Yuri calmed down a little, Otabek got back up onto his feet, brushed off Yuri’s hair and then picked Yuri up off of the floor, one arm under his knees and the other around his back. Even though he was a little taller now, Yuri was still relatively light, his body lacking the bulkiness that Otabek’s showed, so carrying him from the bathroom back to Yuri’s bedroom was an easy task. Once there, Otabek set Yuri down onto his bed before getting ready to walk back to the bathroom to clean up the mess.

“Don’t go,” Yuri said, his hand catching Otabek’s wrist. Yuri’s voice was pleading, desperate almost. “Please.”

Otabek didn’t care how Lilia would react once she’d see the mess, or Yuri’s now shorter, messy hair. None of that mattered. What did matter was Yuri looking up at him as though the idea of Otabek leaving the room even as much as for five minutes scared him while simultaneously breaking his heart.

Yuri moved aside to make some space for Otabek next to him on his bed. In a heartbeat he obliged. Slowly Otabek climbed in and pulled the covers over Yuri, who slotted himself against Otabek as though it was the most natural thing to do with his head resting on Otabek’s chest. Otabek put his arms around Yuri and absentmindedly ran his fingers through Yuri’s hair, knowing that it would calm him down.

“Thank you, Beka,” Yuri said after a while. Instead of saying anything Otabek hugged him a little more and wondered if Yuri would manage to finally get some sleep. He knew Yuri had been struggling with that for months now. At the same time he wasn’t sure if he would be able to sleep at all with Yuri curled up against him. He imagined them in a position like this many times, but the way they got here was nothing like what he had in mind. Otabek wanted nothing more than for Yuri to be okay again, wanted him to see just how much he meant to the people around him, that he wasn’t alone.

Yuuri and Victor genuinely cared about Yuri, so much so that they practically treated him like their son. Mila and Georgi were his friends, and even Yakov and Lilia cared in their own strange ways. But most of all, Otabek cared more about Yuri than he cared for anyone ever before, besides his family. Yuri meant so much to him it scared him, and he wanted to tell Yuri so, but Otabek wasn’t sure if this was the right time or thing to do. Would there ever be a right time? And what if Yuri didn’t feel the way he did? Otabek knew it would hurt, but the possible effect it could have on Yuri’s already fragile mind and emotional state was unforeseeable. He didn’t want to hurt or lose him.

“Good night, Yura,” Otabek whispered and lightly kissed the crown of Yuri’s hair once he was sure that Yuri had fallen sleep, his breathing even and calm. As carefully as he could, Otabek reached for his phone and quickly typed a message to his coach before he could forget or change his mind.

_Me: Changed my mind. Want to do the new EX for GPF._

 

* * *

 

The next morning Otabek woke up after maybe three hours of sleep, if even, to find Lilia standing in the doorway looking straight at them. _Oh shit, fuck, damn._ Otabek looked at her with a silent plea that she wouldn’t start yelling and with it wake up Yuri. She seemed to understand because she just very lightly, so much so that Otabek wasn’t even sure if it’d really happened, nodded her head to indicate for him to come out to talk.

Once Lilia was gone, Otabek slowly untangled himself from underneath Yuri while hoping that he wouldn’t wake up because of it. He didn’t. For a moment he looked at Yuri and felt caught off guard by just how peaceful he looked as he slept, all his struggles and worries pushed aside for just a few hours, his face calm and relaxed in ways that Otabek hadn’t seen it in months. Even with his hair being more than a complete mess and tired shadows underlining his eyes, Yuri still looked absolutely beautiful, mesmerizing even, like the most exquisite piece of art Otabek had ever seen.

Finally he willed his eyes away, slipped out of the room and closed the door behind him as quietly as possible.

Lilia stood in the hallway and looked at him, her eyes piercing, analyzing, and watching every muscle on his face move as well as his eyes. Was this how people felt when they got interrogated by the police? Otabek wanted to explain it to her, tell her what happened with Yuri and how he’d asked him to stay, but found himself unable to say anything at all.

“I saw the bathroom,” Lilia finally said and broke the silence. If she’d seen that, maybe he didn’t have to explain. It was easy enough to put together all the pieces, to understand that Otabek had merely tried to help Yuri, consoled him, and tried to keep the promise he’d made to Nikolai.

Sure it’d also been a little selfish because, as much as the reason for why they slept together in Yuri’s bed made his heart ache, it’d still been nice to have Yuri right there.

“Thank you,” Lilia said, her voice sharp but with the tiniest smidge of something that actually did sound like gratitude, before she turned around and began to walk away. But, halfway down the hallway she stopped again. Otabek wondered if maybe she changed her find after all and now was the moment where she’d reprimand him for something. She turned around just enough to look at him over her shoulder. “Remind him to do something about his hair.”

Doing something about Yuri’s hair wasn’t as easy as Lilia made it sound considering the damage Yuri had done to it in his anger and sadness fueled frenzy.

“I want an undercut,” Yuri declared while looking in the bathroom mirror.

Otabek leaned against the doorframe with his arms crossed in front of his chest and watched Yuri as he gathered part of his wildly cut hair and held it up, turning his head right and left. “Huh?”

“Come on, it’ll look awesome. I mean it looks great on you so don’t be an asshole and help me, Beka.” He let his hair go and turned to Otabek. “The only other option is an atrocious haircut like that of Evgeni Plushenko and honestly no one fucking wants that.” Otabek never thought he’d actually be happy to hear Yuri curse, but he was. It was a good sign in the grand scheme of things.

Having to retouch his own hair every once in a while gave Otabek enough experience to not completely mess up. Then again, Yuri’s hair couldn’t possibly look worse than it currently did. He’d done more damage to the back than to the front, some strands longer than others, cut crookedly and looking generally as though a wild cat had run its claws through it blindly.

Throughout the whole process Yuri gave him exact instructions and descriptions of how he wanted the cut to look like in the end. He even went as far as offering to draw an example picture, but they both knew that Yuri’s artistic skills were nonexistent and thus wouldn’t help, only make Yuri angry in the process. But Otabek was sure he more or less understood what it was that Yuri wanted and was at least seventy percent sure that he’d manage to do it. Hopefully.

Watching Yuri’s silky hair fall away more and more was a sad sight. He looked beautifully with his long hair. Otabek wondered what Yuri’s Angels would think of the change, especially those running entire fan accounts and blogs dedicated solely to Yuri’s angelic hair. They’d probably come after Otabek with murder in their eyes if they found out that he was partially responsible.

Then again, Yuri told him a few times how he wanted to have a newer, cooler and sleeker hairstyle that’d hammer home the message that he wasn’t a kid anymore, that the Fairy of Russia was long dead, but he’d always changed his mind last second.

Now he was finally getting just that, a new cut. Otabek would lie if he didn’t feel at least a little touched by the fact that Yuri wanted an undercut like his because it looked so great. Just to see what Yuri would do, Otabek felt tempted to point out that JJ also had an undercut, but there was a pair of scissors lying close enough that Yuri could reach for them and stab him, so he held back that particular comment.

In the end his bangs were still falling across Yuri’s face on the right side, just like they always did, while the back of his head transitioned more or less smoothly into a undercut reaching around to the left side. As for the fact that Otabek wasn’t a hair stylist and barely knew what he was doing, it actually looked pretty decent.

“Fuck,” Yuri said once he got up to have a look in the mirror. His voice actually sounded positive, pleasantly surprised even. Through his reflection in the mirror Yuri looked at Otabek and actually smiled. How he’d missed that sight.

That following night Yuri made up some uninspired excuse to justify why he wanted Otabek to sleep in his bed again. It was a really bad and blatantly obvious excuse but Otabek didn’t care. Being able to have Yuri close to him was enough, no matter the reason. Somehow Otabek ended up sleeping in Yuri’s bed until their flight to the GPF. Yuri only bothered with excuses two more times before he’d accepted it as a given, the most natural development ever. It definitely messed with Otabek's heart, but at the same time it strengthened his belief that maybe Yuri felt the same way as he did, that maybe the time was right after all. He had to try and hope for the best.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Someone wondered in the comments of the previous chapter if Yuri's path would lead him to suicide and well, as you can see, it didn't. I never even considered that, instead I cut his hair. They say when a woman cut's her hair it's a sign of a new beginning, so why shouldn't that also count for men? Let's see where this change will lead our boys :)
> 
> So any thoughts? I greatly appreciate every comment and kudos you guys leave me. It truly helps me stay motivated and write more chapters, make them better each time. :)
> 
> Also, here is the amazing piece of fan art I saw on tumblr on which I based Yuri's new hairstyle: https://otaburionice.tumblr.com/post/156124099106/izumisays-im-sure-its-been-done-before-but


	7. Oblivion (Age 18)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title song: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VgXOPeobPcI
> 
> Before we get to the chapter I wanted to thank all the lovely people who left comments on the last chapter, and the ones before it. Your kind words and reactions really mean a lot to me. Thank you so much!
> 
> not beta'd.

It felt fucking weird to sit in the stands as merely part of the audience instead of as competitor, but Yuri had to thank himself for that. If he’d tried a little harder, he would be warming up right about now, going through his FS in his head and cheering on Otabek as the took the ice. But he wasn’t. Instead he sat and watched with Mila by his side. Of course she qualified and Yuri would kick her ass if she’d let that female incest twin—who for some reason also happened to be Mila’s girlfriend as of a couple of weeks—take her gold again, though of course he didn’t tell Mila any of that. She didn’t have to know that he was rooting for her.

“Davai,” they yelled together while Otabek skated toward the center of the ice. He looked around and gave them a single thumb up as he spotted them. It reminded Yuri of the time when he’d done this the first time all the way back in Barcelona. So much had happened since then.

As the music began Yuri could feel his phone vibrate in his pocket with yet another wave of endless social media notifications. A quite literal shit storm had broken loose when Phichit posted a selfie with him and Otabek two days ago and was still raging on even now. It’d been the first picture with Yuri’s new haircut (he’d avoided anyone from seeing it before by wearing the amazing leopard hood Otabek had gotten him for his birthday last year any time he left the house) and his damn fangirls had fucking lost their collective minds over it. He didn’t care what they thought. He looked amazing and anyone who thought otherwise could go die in a ditch.

Otabek’s performance was absolutely flawless, every jump executed cleanly and every spin combination a sight to behold. There was so much power and determination behind his every move making his style so vastly different than Yuri’s, or that of most of the other skaters. Otabek was definitely a force to be reckoned with and Yuri loved that. Besides JJ and that Czech dude, Emil or whatever, he was the only worthy opponent Yuri saw, especially after Katsudon retired for good.

It came to him as no surprise that Otabek won gold that night with a five-point lead over Emil, closely followed by JJ. Yuri hoped that Seung-Gil would manage to beat him and take bronze instead, simply because he didn’t want to see JJ on that podium, it didn’t happen, though their score difference was literally only half a point. Fucking lucky asshole.

Watching the exhibition gala the next day from the stands felt even weirder. Normally he didn’t care much for it and only lingered enough to watch Otabek, Mila and Katusdon, while he was still around, but this time he actually got to see the entire thing. While some mind bogglingly boring ice dancers performed, if you could even fucking call it that, Yuri promised himself that he would finally try to pull his shit together in time for Nationals, that he wouldn’t let something like this seasons Grand Prix Series disaster happen to him again.

After that night in the bathroom when he’d cut his hair and Otabek had come to console him, he actually started to understand and follow Otabek’s words, tried to make more of an effort to not let the shit people were saying online get to him as much. He wasn’t Victor and he would never be Victor. Hell he didn’t even _want_ to be fucking Victor. The only thing they used to have in common were their coach and hair, though both were no more. Besides that they were completely different. While Victor was tall with broad shoulders and muscles, Yuri was shorter (hell, he didn’t even get close to Katsudon’s height falling short of at least three centimeters, which also still put him behind Otabek who miraculously decided to grow a tiny bit more, but Yuri never minded that) and much slimmer, willowy even after his grow spurts and everything. He looked nothing like Victor, now less than ever. So everyone who wanted Yuri to be like Victor could honestly go to fucking hell. He didn’t want to care anymore.

Grandpa would want him to be happy, right? He wouldn’t want to see Yuri let himself down like this, right? Fuck, he’d be so disappointed to see how Yuri had fucked up. Yuri himself was disappointed beyond measures. He’d really tried but it’d just gotten too much for him, too much at once, too much pressure and too many expectations he wasn’t able to fulfill because of his grieving and the deep scars it’d left on his heart.

Sometimes at night he wondered why Otabek bothered with him, why he cared so much. Yuri wasn’t the boy with the soldier eyes anymore. He was a wreck, no fun to be around. Many times he wanted to ask him but his fear held him back because what if his question would make Otabek realize that Yuri wasn’t actually worth it? That being friends with him was no use, wouldn’t give him anything at all besides a constant headache?

Yuri was sure that if Otabek would turn his back on him, he would loose it in every way imaginable because he meant too much to him.

“Now on the ice, the Grand Prix Final males singles gold medalist representing Kazakhstan, Otabek Altin,” the announcer said and successfully ripped Yuri out of his thoughts. He watched as a single spotlight followed Otabek to the center while he couldn’t help but frown.

What the fuck was he wearing? That wasn’t the right costume. He most definitely wore something else during his exhibition program at the NHK Trophy. Weird. Maybe he’d decided that he didn’t like the old one, though he hadn’t told Yuri anything, which was strange. They usually told each other everything about their programs.

It wasn’t like the costume itself was any extravagant, nothing like the elaborate body suits Yuri used to wear during his senior debut season, or even the costumes Otabek had worn during the same one. Really it was something you could probably find in fucking Victor’s closet if you’d just search long enough—that bastard had more damn clothes than anyone could use in a single lifetime. Otabek wore black pants, a dress shirt of a different shade of black, and on top of that a half-leather half-sparkling vest and a black tie. On anyone else it’d probably look ridiculous, but Otabek looked great in it. No, he looked fucking amazing, actually. Then again he always did.

“He will be skating to ‘Oblivion’ by Bastille,” the announcer added. That wasn’t fucking right either. If they’d mixed up Otabek’s music, _again,_ Yuri would fucking kick their asses to hell and back because this was outrageous. He was the gold medalist for fucks sake, he deserved some fucking respect from these assholes.

But, to Yuri’s surprise, as the music started, Otabek actually began to skate. _What?_ The music didn’t sound like something Otabek would skate to since he usually stuck to classical pieces, being the old man that he was in that regard, but this definitely wasn’t classical shit. That song was haunting and captivating, just like Otabek’s choreography going along with it.

His moves were slow, deliberate, filled with emotions, a mix of sadness and hope, desperation and longing. Yuri had watched Otabek skate for endless hours over the years, but he’d never seen him skate quite like that. Sure it still had the powerful quality to it that made Otabek, well, Otabek, but it was much calmer, more raw and honest as though he was laying his emotions bare for everyone to see.

Yuri’s eyes widened as he recognized part of the choreography as his own, a sequence taken straight from his free skate. This couldn’t be, could it? But it happened two more times, another sequence taken from last years short program and exhibition piece.

Did that mean…? Impossible. Or was it?

Was Otabek’s exhibition program about him, dedicated to him even though no one said it was? Would Otabek do something like this, even though anyone who paid enough attention could come to the same conclusion as Yuri? Fuck, of course he would. Neither of them were good with talking about their feelings but a language they were both fluent in was skating.

Yuri could feel his body lightly shaking even though he wasn’t cold and his heart racing even though he hadn’t moved in almost an hour. Did that mean that Otabek had feelings for him, the same ones that Yuri had for him but felt himself unable to express them, too afraid of being rejected?

He would fucking kill him.

Otabek jumped and landed flawlessly, the crowd cheering for just a moment, the sound almost deafening in Yuri’s ears. The voice fell away and the music slowly ended, a lone violin, or maybe a cello, played a few last longing notes before the arena turned completely silent for just a moment while Otabek held his final pose. The crowd lost its collective shit while Yuri just sat there completely speechless, his mind coming up blank, and unable to move. Yuri wanted to get up and ask Otabek what the fuck this was supposed to be, but he knew they wouldn’t let him into the backstage area anyways. He had to wait and it pissed him off like nothing else.

His phone vibrated in his pocket, again. Yuri finally had enough and pulled it out to see what the fuck the world wanted from him. He wasn’t in the right mindset to bother checking his comments on Instagram or whatever his fans were relentlessly tweeting at him, so he looked at the text message instead. Of course it was from Victor, because he couldn’t leave him alone even for five fucking minutes.

_Victor: …?????????_

What the fuck was that even supposed to mean? Sure it pretty much reflected what was happening in Yuri’s mind, a storm of nothing but a million question marks, but still. _Ugh_. He didn’t feel like dealing with that geezer right now so he pushed his phone back into his pocket instead.

The rest of the gala, consisting of three more performances and then the whole group bullshit, dragged on like nothing ever had before. Yuri was annoyed and anxious and didn’t appreciate any of it. Couldn’t the whole fucking thing just end already so he could go and talk to Otabek? His stomach flipped at that mere thought because what if he’d misunderstood the entire thing? What if it’d just been a coincidence that parts of that choreography looked like his? What if it had absolutely nothing to do with Yuri and his feelings were completely one-sided?

But if that were the case, why had he changed the program? It made no sense to him in any other context, or maybe he was simply blinded by wishful thinking.

Annoyed Yuri texted Yakov to get him in because if he had to wait even a minute longer he would quite literally die of a fucking heart attack. At the same time he’d never been this nervous about anything in his entire life. Hell even his first performance in the senior division had been less fucking nerve wrecking than this.

Once Yuri spotted Otabek in the distance he was ready to turn and run the other way, but he couldn’t do that. He was the fucking Ice Tiger of Russia, damn it!

“What the fuck, Beka?” he asked before he could think about his words or just how rough and rude they sounded. He winced a little. Great.

Instead of saying anything, Otabek took his arm and led him away from the crowd, his coach and the other skaters milling around. Finding a quiet, semi-private corner was a challenge but they managed. Yuri wondered if Otabek could hear just how stupidly hard his heart was beating or if he noticed that his hands were trembling.

“Was that…,” Yuri said but the rest of his question died in his mouth. _Fuck._

“Was that what, Yura?” Otabek asked so infuriatingly calmly Yuri literally wanted to punch something because of it. How was he so calm while Yuri felt like he was dying?

“Was that…,” he tried again. “Was that…about me?” There, he managed to say it though he felt unable to look Otabek in the eye as he did, too afraid of his reaction. Yuri was in deep, he realized just now, wondering if he’d regret asking in a moment. Every second that went by as he waited for Otabek to say something, anything, felt horribly excruciatingly.

Yuri’s feelings for Otabek, those reaching further than just friendship, developed slowly, subtly, at first without Yuri even consciously noticing it. But than, as his world crashed around him after his grandpa died, Otabek stayed, remained by his side, extended a helping hand while Yuri needed it most, and something within him shifted. The small things about Otabek he’d noticed a million times before that never had much meaning, suddenly bore a weight, a significance presenting him in a different light. Yuri knew Otabek was a great guy, his first actual best friend, but slowly he came to realize that he wanted him to be more than that. He caught himself craving to touch Otabek, or being touched by him, even if only in trivial ways. He loved the way Otabek ran his fingers through his hair, the feeling so vastly different from when anyone else did it, or Otabek’s back against his chest while they drove around on his motorcycle. Other times he wondered how it would feel like to kiss him, or even just hug him as more than just a friend, to allow himself to bask in Otabek’s warmth for more than just a few seconds.

But the moment that really made Yuri realize that he truly had feelings for Otabek that weren’t just friendship or hormone fueled fantasies, was when he’d asked Otabek to share a bed with him the night he’d cut his hair. Only few things in life had ever felt so right as cuddling during that night, or the nights that followed. It was strange, really, because Yuri had always thought he didn’t _need_ a relationship, a boyfriend or anyone, but just because he didn’t need it didn’t mean he didn’t still want one. Not one, not anyone. No, Yuri wanted Otabek. _Fuck._

What if Otabek didn’t want him? What if Yuri had it all wrong and that performance was meant for someone else completely, or no one? What if it was just a very artistically beautiful choreography meant to show another side of him that didn’t get a chance to be seen in his SP or FS?

“Yes,” Otabek finally said. _What?!_ Suddenly his hand was on Yuri’s chin softly pushing it upward so Yuri didn’t have any other option than to actually look at Otabek. Yuri was quite sure his heart was about to rip through his ribcage and jump out of his chest.

“Why?” The word came out breathless and Yuri wondered if Otabek had even heard it since it’d been just that quiet.

“I thought it was quite obvious.” Yuri never minded how cryptic Otabek’s answers occasionally were, but in that moment he hated it. Why was all of this so fucking hard?

“I….” What did he even want to say? And why was Otabek looking at him like that? Was the world ending or had Yuri done something stupid, somehow? “Why are you smiling like that?”

“I’ve never seen you lost for words,” he admitted, and in any other circumstance Yuri would’ve been able to make some kind of joke or something, but right now he felt like he was about to burst. He was most definitely blushing harder than ever before.

“Does that mean you _like_ me?” Yuri wanted to slap himself for just how pathetic he sounded.

“Yes.” _What!?_

Yuri blinked in disbelieve trying to process what Otabek had just said, even though it had only been a single fucking word. He _liked_ him. _Oh god, thank you!_ Yuri’s heart beat even faster once he realized how close Otabek was, his face only a breath or two away from his own, his hand lingering on Yuri’s jaw and his eyes looking straight into Yuri’s. All it would take would be to move his face up just a little more but he couldn’t move.

“Can I?” Otabek asked. _Oh hell fucking yes!_ Yuri couldn’t coax his answer to come out so he nodded instead. It was good enough of an answer.

Yuri felt his knees almost give out beneath him once Otabek’s lips touched his. His eyes closed on their own volition and, even though he’d never kissed anyone before, somehow his mouth seemed to know exactly what it was doing.

Even though they were in a very public place and practically anyone could walk by at any moment and see them, Yuri had never felt quite as much at peace as he did in that very moment. Everything faded into the background, all his troubles and worries stopped looming above his head, and all the anger he usually felt subsided for at least that little while. It sounded fucking stupid, but he swore Otabek had the power to switch off his brain and grant him peacefulness and calmness just by being there, his hands on Yuri’s cheeks and his lips on Yuri’s.

They were softer than Yuri imagined and far more inviting than they should be.

Yuri felt almost a little dizzy once they parted to catch their breath. He swore he could actually see Otabek blush at least a tiny bit. No one but him would probably even notice it. And then he smiled at him, unguarded and honest, and Yuri was sure his heart was about to actually stop. No one should be allowed to be just this fucking attractive.

“But why?” Yuri asked, his voice hushed while his eyes were slowly but surely getting lost in Otabek’s. He did have gorgeous eyes, dark and endless like the night sky. Otabek didn’t answer just raised his eyebrow enough so Yuri would know that he didn’t quite understand. Yuri was just a little proud that he’d learn how to read all the tiny facial expressions over the last two years. It made understanding Otabek this much easier. “I mean, why me? Even I know I’m an asshole most of the time, any of the finalists present today can confirm that, and across the past year I was insufferable, even for my standards.”

Otabek’s eyes turned softer then. “That’s not true. Yes you can be a bit of an ass sometimes, but that’s not everything. Trust me, the positives most definitely outweigh the negatives.”

Yuri actually giggled a little at that. He never giggled at anything before because it was embarrassing. Normally he would say something stupid or at least curse to move on from a cringe worthy moment like that, but with Otabek he didn’t feel the need to.

Instead of saying anything, Yuri put his arms around Otabek’s neck and leaned in for another kiss because honestly that was the only thing he truly wanted to do right now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's what I based Otabek's gala exhibition outfit on: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tZAlH2Qg2ng
> 
> This was easily the hardest chapter to write so far because I wanted it to be perfect. I think I've worked on it for over a week, reading and editing it over and over again so I hope the final result is good! Also I've actually went as far as trying to stake to "Oblivion" to see if it'd actually work and damn now I'd like to see someone like Johnny Weir or Stephane Labile skate to it, not gonna lie.
> 
> Here's a tiny little hint at the next chapter that'll tell you exactly nothing about the plot: Victor and Yuuri will finally make a comeback to this story and actually do more than just appear in the background. Guess away what their role might be. ;)
> 
> So any thoughts? I greatly appreciate every comment and kudos you guys leave me. It truly helps me stay motivated and write more chapters, make them better each time. :)


	8. All This and Heaven Too (Age 19)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title song: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dMInqrkfXuQ
> 
> Thank you once more to everyone who left me such amazing comments on the previous chapter, it seriously helped me a lot since some things are a bit of a struggle right now.
> 
> not beta'd.

“Let’s fly to Hasetsu,” Yuri said one night somewhere between Four Continents and Worlds during their evening Skype call.

“Why?” Otabek asked. He didn’t mind the idea, it’d be nice to see that town after he’d heard so many stories about it from Yuri and Victor over the years, but he was still a bit surprised that Yuri would willingly go there. Then again, Yuri often said he hated the things he secretly liked or even loved.

“Honestly? I guess I miss it.” Yuri shrugged and got up. He continued talking while he tidied his room a bit, which basically meant carrying a pile of clothes from one place to another. Lilia must’ve given him an earful about it like so many times across the years. “It’s a really nice place, it’d be fun to be there again and just spend some lazy down time. I could show you around, and we could even go to the beach to see the fucking sunset. I know you like that kind of sappy shit.”

Otabek couldn’t argue with that, he did like that idea. The thought reminded him of their first actual conversation in Barcelona overlooking the city while the sun was slowly setting. It was a great memory and made him smile a bit. He could still recall just how nervous he’d been back than, even more so when he asked Yuri if he would be his friend or not.

Suddenly Yuri marched back to his laptop and stared right into the camera. “But I swear to God if you tell Victor or Katsudon I said any of this, I will have to first kill them, because they will never leave me along again, and then you, and honestly I’d really like to not have to do that. It’d be such a waste of talent, and a perfect body for cuddling and kissable lips. Also who will go on motorcycle rides with me when you’re dead?”

“So that’s all I am to you, a chauffeur?” Otabek asked, amused, and lightly shook his head.

“If the shoe fits...” Yuri raised one eyebrow and smirked. “Besides, Victor promised me a new SP and FS. If I don’t show up personally and hold him to it the geezer will forget it.”

That was nothing but an excuse, almost like a justification, as though Yuri worried that if there wasn’t a concrete reason for them to go Otabek wouldn’t agree. It was completely unnecessary because Otabek would fly with Yuri wherever he wanted if it meant they could spend some time together. Having a long-distance friendship was hard and sucked, but a long-distance relationship was far worse. He’d take any chance he got to be with Yuri even if they’d spend it all just sitting next to each other in complete silence. Seeing Yuri in a place that was special to him, that contained happy memories and positivity, would be nice and surely show him another side of Yuri he might not know yet, another piece of the puzzle that was the real Yuri Plisetsky.

“Okay,” Otabek finally said. “When do you want to go?”

At Worlds a few weeks later JJ managed to beat both Yuri and Otabek, much to Yuri’s annoyance. Before the medal ceremony Yuri found even more colorful ways to call JJ out, which Phichit happily documented on social media through live tweeting once again. Otabek took silver while Yuri managed to keep Seung-Gil in check enough to get his hands on bronze. He wasn’t happy, Otabek knew, but it was still a medal and a sign that Yuri was slowly coming back.

Sometime after Worlds Otabek met up with Yuri in Moscow so they could continue their way to Fukuoka together. Their flight was long—almost fifteen hours including a layover in Seoul—which was simply way too long as for Otabek’s liking but he knew it would be worth it. About two hours into the flight Yuri, who’d talked almost nonstop as means of trying to distract Otabek from his fear, fell asleep with his head resting against Otabek’s shoulder. His blanket hung off of his body and looked like it’d slip off of his lap the next time he’d move. Carefully Otabek reached for it and pulled it over Yuri again before going back to his book. It was one of his favorites, one he knew would be able to occupy him enough to distract him from the flight itself. Though Yuri’s sleeping form and occasional quiet little snores were quite distracting in and of themselves, too.

Three hours later the seatbelt signs came back on and the pilot announced that there would be minor turbulences ahead but that they had nothing to worry about, that they would pass very quickly. A moment later the plane began to shake. Otabek gripped the armrests as though his life depended on it while Yuri slowly raised his head, confused.

“Hey,” Yuri said, his voice calm while another wave took the plane. Otabek’s heart picked up and he started to regret having gotten on that plane. “Just relax, idiot, nothing will happen. It’ll be over in a minute, you’ll see. Come on, look at me.”

Otabek heard Yuri’s words and he wanted to calm down but his fear was stronger than Yuri’s reassurance and the calmness with which he spoke. He really wasn’t ready to die just yet.

“Beka, look at me,” Yuri said, again, and finally he turned his head to look at him. There was a small smile on Yuri’s lips and his eyes were surprisingly soft, a look Otabek knew was reserved just for him. He had never seen Yuri look at anyone else like that and just that thought alone was enough to actually calm him down a little at least. Carefully Yuri reached for his hand and pried his fingers loose from his death grip before taking Otabek’s hand into his. After knowing Yuri for over two and a half years, and being with him for almost five months, he was still surprised by how gentle and caring Yuri could be.

The plane shook again and it made Otabek feel like he was a kid again. It reminded him of the first time he flew to the United States, alone, to train under his new coach. He’d been kind of excited, looked forward to seeing his new rink and meeting his new coach since he’d heard so much good about her. His older brother, Serik, told him to think of it all as big adventure and how he should simply remember how proud he made everyone at home, and that there was nothing to be afraid of during flights.

Otabek believed him up until the moment when they’d encountered turbulences and he’d been sure he would die at age twelve. A friendly looking lady sat next to him and tried to talk to him, reassure him that nothing would happen, but he only understood fragments of her words because his English hadn’t been quite as good at that point yet.

Having Yuri by his side holding his hand and running his fingers gently across his skin was so much better.

“See, I told you we’d be all right,” Yuri said, smiling, after they’d safely landed in Seoul. He leaned forward and kissed Otabek’s cheek before getting up to pull his stuff from the overhead compartment.

Just over two hours later they finally made it to Fukuoka and Otabek was thankful to still be alive.

Spotting Yuri’s suitcase at baggage claim was easy, his animal print sticking out like a sore thumb between all the black, dark green and blue. It took them significantly longer to find Otabek’s since it looked exactly like about ten other suitcases of the same brand and color.

“Yurio!” A voice exclaimed the second they stepped out of the airport and onto the parking lot.

“That’s not my fucking name, asshole!” Yuri yelled back, annoyed, getting everyone’s attention around them, heads turning. Otabek looked at them apologetically but it barely mattered.

Victor and Yuuri came into view next to a hot pink convertible that looked a billion times more out of place than Yuri’s suitcase or animal print and leather jacket.

“What the fuck is that?” Yuri demanded pointing a finger at the car while disgust rang in his voice. “I am not getting into that thing. What is fucking wrong with you fuckers?”

“It’s amazing, right?” Victor asked, proudly, seemingly unfazed by Yuri’s words. “Otabek, good to see you. Had a good flight?”

“Could’ve been better but we’re here now,” Otabek said and shrugged. He was glad that it’d be at least two weeks until they’d have to board a plane back home. Even after years of flying across the globe for competitions he was still convinced that he would never get used to it.

Yuuri opened the trunk so Otabek and Yuri could put their stuff inside before they got into the car. Otabek wondered where Yuuri and Victor had managed to find a car like that, and what had driven them to actually buy it. Then again, it was Victor Nikiforov so why was he surprised.

“Since when is Katsudon driving?” Yuri asked while Yuuri got behind the wheel.

“According to my Yuuri I’m a bad driver,” Victor said, sounding enamored even as he said that. Otabek could see Yuri roll his eyes whenever Victor called Katsuki ‘my Yuuri’. It was kind of cute, though Otabek knew if he’d try saying something like that, Yuri would probably kill him and hide his body well enough that no one would find it again. There was something about the idea of Yuri being his that made Otabek’s skin tingle, a fact that still seemed impossible to him even though it was more than true, and maybe one day he would actually try to address Yuri like that just to see if his murder theory was right.

“I will let you drive again once you stop ignoring stop signs and keep your eyes on the road,” Yuuri said while navigating his way off of the parking lot.

“That was one time!”

Even though Otabek’s been in Japan for numerous competitions over the years, he’d never really had the time to take a look around. It was nice to finally see the countryside, take in the scenery and just how different Japan looked from home, Russia or the States. Yuri had insisted they’d go around this time because of the cherry blossoms and Otabek could definitely understand why. Beautiful pink flowers crowded the tress and looked like they’d been taken straight out of a magazine or movie. Yuri had sent him pictures of Hastetsu each time he’d come here over the years and they’d looked great, but seeing the real thing was definitely much better.

“Hastetsu is wonderful,” Victor said well into their one-hour drive. “Once we’ll get there you’ll fall in love and never want to leave again. Nothing beats the onsen at Yu-topia or mama’s katsudon, you definitely have to try it. She promised to make you some since Yurio likes it so much.”

“That's not my fucking name, dickface, how many times am I supposed to tell you that until you’ll finally stop?”

“And it’s really okay for us to stay at your place?” Otabek asked before Yuri could get even more annoyed or angry and potentially cause an accident with his temper. It was amusing, especially because he knew Victor used that nickname on purpose since it got Yuri worked up every time, but dying in a pink car just wasn’t the way Otabek wanted to go.

“Of course! Makkachin will be happy to see you two again. Besides we have more than enough space,” Yuuri assured him while stopping at a red light.

The Katsuki-Nikiforov house was most definitely big enough for the four of them, and then some. It was a beautiful house only a few streets away from the beach with a nice garden and was generally held in a traditional Japanese style, at least on the outside. The car definitely clashed with everything around it. The inside was a mix of styles, modern and traditional that screamed of both Victor and Yuuri. The hallways were crowded with framed pictures of Victor, Yuuri, Makkachin and the Katsuki family. There were even a few that also contained Yuri. The rooms were wide and open with natural light coming in through big windows and lamps stood and hung everywhere. The bedrooms were upstairs, three of them in total, though the master bedroom was the biggest one. Otabek wasn’t sure if Yuri had told them about their relationship, and felt too shy to voice his question at that point, though he got his answer regardless. Victor led them to the second guest bedroom at the other end of the hallway.

“Make yourself at home and let us know when you’ll be ready for dinner so we can go to Yu-topia,” Victor said, smiling. “If you need anything, just let us know.” And with that he put his arm around Yuuri and led him away.

“I’m sorry about the old men,” Yuri said after they’d settled in and dug out clothes to change into that didn’t smell like old air and airports. “I swear since they got married they’ve only gotten more annoying.”

“And yet you still wanted to come here,” Otabek mused as he eyed Yuri stretching with his arms above his head, his shirt revealing a sliver of flawless pale skin across his stomach.

“My eyes are up here.” Yuri’s voice sounded amused and he smiled as Otabek raised his eyes to his face. “Come here.”

Otabek all too willingly obliged crossing the few steps between them. Yuri raised his hands and lightly put them on his cheeks, fingertips running along his cheekbones while Yuri’s eyes turned soft and calm but with a smidge of determination burning in them. Otabek put his hands on Yuri’s waist and pulled him closer.

“Kiss me,” Yuri said, quietly, barely more than a hushed whisper. Otabek didn’t hesitate sealing Yuri’s mouth with his, all tiredness and hunger immediately forgotten. Yuri’s kisses were demanding, his body pressed flush against Otabek’s, his hands slowly wandering to Otabek’s neck and into his hair.

“Boys, it’s time to go!”

“Victor is about to get grouchy if he won’t get something to eat.”

With a groan Otabek and Yuri broke apart while gasping for air. If they didn’t have to eat, and Otabek’s stomach wouldn’t be growling, he’d be very willing to just continue making out until tomorrow.

“I swear one day I will actually kill them,” Yuri said looking a little apologetic like it was somehow his fault that they kind of needed food to survive. “Sorry.”

Watching Yuri interact with the Katsuki family was interesting though completely different than watching him interact with his own family. Hiroko, Yuuri’s mother, fussed around them and seemed excited and delighted by the fact that they enjoyed her food—at least as far as Otabek could tell since he didn’t understand a word she said—while Minako, Yuuri’s former ballet teacher, asked them questions upon questions about the past season and lamented how she couldn’t hang out with skaters anymore now that Victor and Yuuri didn’t compete. Interestingly enough Yuri didn’t complain, not even once, when they called him Yurio, though he threw sour stares at Victor each time he did it, testing the waters and wanting to see if he’d snap. He didn’t to probably everyone’s surprise.

Yuri seemed much more relaxed around these people than back home. He laughed and sometimes even genuinely smiled; it made Otabek’s heart beat a little faster and made him happy. It’d been so long since he’d last seen Yuri act like this, so free and content. It was such a stark contrast to how he’d been over the past year. He was recovering, and healing, slowly turning back into the Yuri he’s always been, though a little more mature now then at seventeen or fifteen.

It’d been a good idea to come here.

 

* * *

 

“Old man can you just fucking focus for five minutes,” Yuri groaned as he skated toward Victor at Ice Castle. “I’m pretty sure Katsudon won’t drop dead just because you’re not there for two hours. Otabek is there if he sets the house on fire so put your fucking phone away and show me those fucking choreographies!”

“Someone’s in a bad mood today,” Victor said, his own mood way too positive as for the early hour. He put his phone down and looked at Yuri with a smile that only made Yuri more annoyed. “Than again it’s good to see you motivated again. That past season was definitely something.”

“Fuck you.”

“Come on, I’m trying to be nice! I made two choreographies for you, doesn’t that warrant at least something that would resemble a thank you?”

“Whatever,” Yuri said and rolled his eyes. Of course he was thankful for the work Victor put into his choreographies, again, just like the past years, but he sure as hell wouldn’t tell him so. The fact that Yuri hadn’t murdered him or his husband yet should be ‘thank you’ enough.

The short program and free skate were nothing short of brilliant. Victor had definitely outdone himself once more while also sticking to the few requests Yuri had made. He wanted to come back stronger than ever before, show something new, something unique, and Victor’s choreographies definitely brought both across. They were completely different than the Agape program Victor had given him years ago, were miles away from that ballet fairy crap, though they still showed off all that gracefulness and flexibility Yuri had worked for so long and hard across most of his life.

“Thank you,” Yuri finally said knowing too well that he would regret giving in and saying those two words. A touched smile spread across Victor’s face, his eyes turning soft and almost puppy like, and Yuri immediately felt tempted to take it back, even more so as Victor pulled him into a hug.

“Having Otabek around is definitely doing you good, _Yuri_ ,” Victor said once he let him go again though his hands were still on Yuri’s shoulders.

Yuri squinted his eyes at Victor. “Don’t make me regret having told you about that.”

“You make it sound like it’d been just that easy even though we both know Yuuri and I practically had to force that information out of you. Are you ashamed or embarrassed by your relationship?”

Yuri so wasn’t having any of Victor’s bullshit. He wasn’t in any sort of way interested in having that conversation with him of all people. No, he did not feel ashamed or embarrassed, not even for a second, but he simply wanted to have his peace. His love life was private matter and he wasn’t interested in the old men poking around in it. The last thing Yuri wanted was relationship advice from Victor I-can’t-live-or-function-properly-without-my-husband-because-I’m-fucking-extra Nikiforov. He’d probably tell him that kissing Otabek on live television at the GPF next season would be a brilliant idea.

Otabek made Yuri happy and he enjoyed being with him more than with any other person, made his heart race and his inside feel like they were on fire in the best way possible. He was everything Yuri wanted, even if it sounded stupid and Yuri wanted to slap himself for even as much as thinking it, but it was true. Otabek understood him and somehow had all the patience in the world to tolerate his shit, which was more than Yuri could ever ask for. He was most definitely head over heels in love with him.

Despite Victor’s usual inability to let a topic like that go, he probably sensed Yuri’s shift in mood and miraculously decided to swiftly change subjects: “Anyway, what about your gala program?”

“That’s taken care of.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning you don’t need to fucking worry about it. I already have someone else choreograph it for me,” Yuri said and stepped off of the ice. Somehow their allocated two hours before public hours had passed way quicker than Yuri thought they would. It’d been nice to skate at Ice Castle again, even though it was smaller than his home rink, and he couldn’t wait to take Otabek skating there soon.

“What?” Victor put on a fake offended tone and dramatically put his hand on his heart, his eyes wide and mouth open. “I feel betrayed Yuri. How can you do this to me? Who is it?”

“None of your fucking business, old man.”

“You’re cruel, Yurio.”

Maybe it came with age or he was turning more mature, but he couldn’t argue that he was slowly developing a soft spot for the old geezer and his fucking antics. Yuri knew choreographing, and the occasional ice shows, were everything Victor had left skating wise, so he decided to take pity on him, humor him just enough to get him off his back.

“Fucking fine, old man,” Yuri said while putting on his shoes and packing his skates away. “If it’ll make you feel better you can choreograph a gala program for the Grand Prix qualifiers.”

“See, I knew you love me,” Victor cooed looking way too pleased.

“No, I very much dislike you, asshole.”

“Keep telling yourself that, Yurio, but deep down you know it ain’t true.” Victor winked and got up ready to leave. The problem was that the old fucker was right. Yuri really didn’t dislike him. He liked him, kind of, at least sometimes during those few rare moments during which the old man wasn’t annoying as fuck.

 

* * *

 

Otabek rolled onto his back to find Yuri gone. For just a second he felt like a familiar panic was about to set in, a déjà vu like feeling to Yuri’s worst days, but then he remembered that Yuri was supposed to go to the rink with Victor first thing in the morning. Immediately his body relaxed again. According to his phone it was still quite early, making the fact that he’d woken up on his own even more surprising. Than again, they’d gone to bed extra early the previous night exactly because he wanted to fight jet leg immediately.

Walking downstairs Otabek could hear someone rummaging through the kitchen while music was quietly playing in the background. Yuuri stood in front of the fridge while Makkachin lay on the floor close by watching him intently.

“Morning,” Otabek said while running his hand through his hair. He still couldn’t decide if he liked how long it’d gotten, enough so that he could put it in a loose bun or pony tail, or if he wanted to cut it shorter again just the way it’d been for years. Yuri said it made him look hot so maybe he would leave it a little while longer.

“Good morning,” Yuuri said, turning around with a smile. “Slept well?”

“Guess so,” Otabk shrugged.

“Well sit down while I’ll make us coffee and something to eat, all right?”

Otabek walked over to the breakfast bar sitting in the center of their strangely oversized kitchen and sat down. Makkachin got up and approached him to get some love. Otabek absentmindedly scratched him behind the ear while he watched Yuuri.

“You drink your coffee with lactose free milk, right?” How did Yuuri know that? Otabek didn’t recall ever having mentioned it.

“Yeah,” he said instead of asking.

“Yuri told me so before he left with Vitya but I wasn’t sure if I remembered correctly.” That made sense.

“Thanks,” Otabek said once Yuuri placed the mug in front of him. For a moment he wondered what to say. Yuuri was his friend but he still wasn’t the best at leading conversations, at least not with people that weren’t Yuri. “This place is really nice. Thank you again for letting us stay.”

“The pleasure is ours. We love having Yurio around and you’re welcome anytime, too, of course.” Yuuri smiled as he spoke, his words warm and welcoming. It was easy to understand why Yuri liked him, even though he’d never admit it out loud, especially with Yuuri and Victor in the same room. Yuuri made it easy to like him through being so polite and friendly, less loud and big than Victor. “Before I forget, Vitya and I wanted to thank you.”

Otabek frowned, confused. “Thank me?”

Yuuri sat down next to him, breakfast ready and served, his hands holding a steaming mug of tea. “For being there for Yuri while he needed you. You’re a good influence on him. I know he isn’t easy to be around sometimes but he really likes you, it’s easy to see and hear in the way he talks about you.”

Something about the idea that Yuri talked to Yuuri and Victor about him in a fond way, judging by Yuuri’s words, made him feel warm inside. It definitely meant that Yuri liked him a lot since he rarely spoke fondly of anything if it didn’t matter a lot to him. It made him smile to himself and reminded him of his own conversations with his sister.

Aisulu loved Yuri from the first second she laid eyes upon him as he stepped into Otabek’s family house during Yuri’s first visit to Almaty. After Otabek had flown out to Yuri when his grandpa was at the hospital and subsequently died, Aisulu had flooded him with more questions than Otabek could ever think of regarding his feelings for Yuri and what he planned on doing about them once he’d returned home. She was young but she figured out his feelings quicker than he had himself, than again, she’d always been remarkably good at observing and analyzing people, a trait she had after their father.

“I really like him, too,” Otabek finally said after a moment of silence and nothing but the music playing from the radio barely audibly, indistinguishable background noise. Somehow this moment and Yuuri words felt reminiscent of what Nikolai had told him before he died.

A knowing smile spread across Yuuri’s face.

“Yuri will kill me for telling you this but he was really looking forward to coming here. It might not always seem like it but he really likes you two and appreciates what you’ve done for him.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t say anything. Also you’re the last person he would kill.”

Otabek nodded lightly. “That might be right.”

“It’s good that you’re keeping your relationship private, you know. As much as I love Victor, having everyone know from the beginning on was a lot to handle, and a lot of pressure, not that I regret any of it, but I probably would’ve skipped that TV kiss.” Yuuri laughed and lightly shook his head. “Sooner or later it’ll come out, somehow, but keeping it private while it’s new is a good idea, especially since it’s Yurio we’re talking about here.”

“He’s had enough to deal with already. You probably know what the papers had been saying about him after the Grand Prix.”

“Vitya had been on the brink of causing a scene because of it. Took a lot for me to stop him. It was Yurio’s battle and I knew he needed to fight alone so he could come out stronger on the other side.” Yuuri sighed then and looked at Otabek. “I wish I could’ve had Vitya by my side back when I failed at the GPF and hit my lowest point immediately after just like Yuri had you.”

“Maybe it’d been what it took for you to be where you are today,” Otabek mused before taking a sip of his coffee. Otabek didn’t believe in fate or any of that, but he did believe that sometimes you had to go through certain things before you could be rewarded with something great. If all his struggles had been what it’d taken so he could have Yuri, it had been worth it and he’d go through it all again.

“Either way,” Yuuri said, his voice a mix of mock serious and amused. “Just know that if you hurt him, there is a good chance Victor will come after you ready to kill with me right behind him.”

“I could never do something to hurt him,” Otabek said, his voice honest and serious. “I care too much about him. I really do love him, Yuuri.”

“That’s all I wanted to hear.” A satisfied smile slipped on Yuuri’s face before he returned to his tea. If this conversation had been some kind of test to figure out Otabek’s intentions or feelings toward Yuri, it looked like he passed.

Yuuri and Victor really seemed like Yuri’s parents, or at least his family, not by birth but by choice. It was easy to see how much they cared, even if Yuri pretended to hate it, and Otabek was glad because of it. Yuri deserved all the love and affection he was getting from the people around him and so much more, and he was happy to be part of it all for however long Yuri would have him.

 

* * *

 

Yuri was taking his role as tour guide surprisingly seriously, Otabek realized as Yuri dragged him across the city showing him anything he deemed interesting enough. Hasetsu was quiet and peaceful, the people friendly and the scenery truly beautiful with the cherry blossoms and the sea sparkling in the sunlight. Yuri coaxed him into taking a picture together with Hastetsu Castle in the background, which Yuri than posted on his Instagram because he thought the picture looked great.

It was a nice picture, Otabek had to admit that, but not because of the noteworthy background but rather because of Yuri’s smile, one that finally touched his eyes again.

Their next stop was a small and cozy tea place. Together they set down next to the window and watched as people walked past, kids and elderly people, woman with dogs and even a guy with a cat hidden away in a carrier. Otabek listened while Yuri told him about his morning practice with Victor and laughed at Yuri’s dramatic reenactment of Victor’s reaction to the news that Yuri had gotten someone else to choreograph his gala piece. Otabek had been surprised, too, when Yuri had told him about it a while back, though back then Yuri hadn’t been sure if it’d work out.

On their way back they took a detour to pick up Yuuko’s triplets from school. Otabek was surprised by that information since he knew of Yuri’s aversion to children but watching him interact with those three girls was quite something. Than again Yuri got along perfectly with Aisulu, though she was four years older than the triplets.

“Wow Yuri, you were right, he does look even better in person,” one of the triplets said though Otabek wasn’t sure which it was, Axel, Lutz or Loop. All three of them looked strikingly similar making him wonder how anyone could distinguish them. Maybe by their hairstyles or the colors they wore?

“Is he your boyfriend, Yuri?” another one asked.

“He should be!” the third one added while the other two nodded enthusiastically in agreement. Meanwhile Yuri looked like he was about to burst from embarrassment while blushing so hard his face was a shade away from being completely tomato red.

Otabek couldn’t help but laugh at the entire scene. Aisulu would definitely agree with the three, though unlike the triplets she already knew that Yuri was, in fact, his boyfriend. Otabek had to stop her from screaming it at anyone who’d listen and tell her off from posting anything about it on social media. Yuri was very amused by the fact that, despite being fourteen, Aisulu had more of a social media presence and understanding than Otabek.

“You are the worst you little brats!” Yuri finally growled in annoyance and tried to look menacing but it only made the triplets laugh.

Quickly they changed topics and it turned out the triplets were quite in the know about everything and anything figure skating related. They asked countless questions about the past season, their plans for the next one, their fellow competitors, and if they could possibly organize another ‘Onsen On Ice’ event now that Yuri could skate against Yuuri and Otabek, though even they didn’t really know what they would skate for. Yuri quickly told them off just as they reached the Nishigori house.

The days in Hasetsu passed slowly but at the same time way too quickly. Many of them were spent by being lazy or walking around, exploring the area, skating at Ice Castle, and extensive make out sessions now that they were actually in one place together for more than a few days without competitions looming above their heads.

Otabek definitely understood why Yuri liked this place so much, why he came here whenever he got a chance to do so or Victor and Yuuri would have him. The people were welcoming and friendly, the weather mild and the atmosphere serene and warm, completely different than the hectic life Otabek knew from back home in the city. At night he could see the stars clearly and hear the ocean in the distance.

“I promised you a sunset, didn’t I?” Yuri said as they walked down the street toward the beach with Makkachin trotting along next to them. A few days ago Yuri had asked Victor how that dog was still alive considering his age, which ended with Victor actually crying and Yuuri calmly reprimanding Yuri for disrespecting Victor. It was a bizarre moment from beginning to end and Otabek still didn’t know what he thought of it.

They reached the beach just in time. The sky looked like it’d been set on fire, painted in reds, yellows, oranges and shades of pink reflecting off of the waves all the way from the horizon until the shore. It was a breathtaking view and so different from the one years ago in Barcelona, even if only because now Yuri was actually holding Otabek’s hand and smiling at him so fondly he was sure his heart was about to melt.

Coming to Hasetsu had most definitely been worth it, even if only to kiss Yuri during the sunset on the beach, which was surprisingly void of people.

“Yura?” Otabek said to get Yuri’s attention.

Yuri slowly turned his head, his eyes remaining on the view in front of them for a second longer before they followed and rose to look up at Otabek instead. “What?”

Why was this moment making him feel just this nervous, his mouth suddenly dry and his heart beating harder? It wasn’t like he was about to say something Yuri didn’t know already, yet the idea of saying it out loud, explicitly, for the first time seemed daunting. Otabek took a deep breath. Now or never. “Мен сені сүйемін.”

“Beka you fucking sap,” Yuri said, his smile so wide and bright it could probably blind someone. He threw his arms around Otabek’s neck and pulled him into another kiss while Makkachin happily barked in the background. That’d gone down way better than Otabek anticipated it would, then again, Yuri never failed to surprise him across the years. Yuri pulled back way too quickly and Otabek was ready to protest, but before he could Yuri smiled almost shyly and said: “Я тоже тебя люблю.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Somewhere along the way this chapter managed to grow way longer than I thought it would bringing it to almost 5.9k words. Do you guys mind longer chapters? Also I simply couldn't resist giving Victor and Yuuri that pink car, it was simply too tempting, especially because of Yuri's reaction. I must admit that finding a song for this chapter took me way longer than with most of the previous ones, whatever that might mean. But, while I was on the search I found a perfect song for the next chapter so that's nice.
> 
> Мен сені сүйемін - I love you in Kazakh, at least according to Google.  
> Я тоже тебя люблю - I love you too in Russian.  
> And yes I know Yuri and Otabek talk in Russian with each other but I thought it'd be nice if each of them said it in their own language.
> 
> So any thoughts? I greatly appreciate every comment and kudos you guys leave me. It truly helps me stay motivated and write more chapters, make them better each time. :)


	9. Firestone (Age 19)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title song: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=f8kJa6JYK9Q
> 
> Since you guys seemed pretty fond of the idea of longer chapters, I'm bringing you an even longer one. It wasn't planned that way but our boys simply did what they wanted and this is the result. Enjoy!
> 
> not beta'd.

“Happy Birthday, Otabek,” Leo and JJ exclaimed cheerfully while leaning onto the barrier to the right and left of the entrance to the ice. Guang-Hong, Leo’s crush and shadow, lingered in the background and smiled, which Otabek took as his silent way of wishing him a happy birthday as well.

Unlike Yuri who seemed hostile toward the other skaters during the best of times, Otabek was on neutral or friendly terms with most of them. He considered Leo the closest thing to a friend he had before Yuri, mainly because he’d spent a number of years at the same rink as Leo training under the same coach. Leo was a good skater who strived on music and passion. Otabek admired that. They’d gotten along pretty well and Leo definitely helped him improve his English a lot, accepted him as his friend the moment Otabek arrived and could barely speak two sentences without making a complete fool of himself.

When it came to JJ, he too had been his rink mate for a short amount of time during Otabek’s time in Canada. But while Otabek poured all his time and energy into his skating, trying to improve and evolve it, JJ seemed to live off of socializing with the other skaters. For weeks JJ invited him to hang out with him and his friends after practice but with every rejection he got, his invitations turned fewer until they finally stopped completely.

Otabek didn’t mind. He didn’t have anything against JJ per se, unlike Yuri who seemed to turn three times angrier when JJ was somewhere close to him—close being a three kilometer radius, minimum—but their personalities didn’t quite match up. While JJ was loud and extroverted, Otabek preferred the quiet; an evening spent reading a good book instead of at some wild party playing strip poker. He’d seen some pictures and was thankful he’d said no to _that_ particular invitation.

“Thank you,” Otabek said and every so lightly smiled at Leo and JJ before taking off his blade guards and stepping onto the ice. His coach took his guards and then moved over to talk to another coach to give Otabek some time to warm up.

“So, any plans for your big day? Party? Drinks? Ladies or Gentlemen? Both, maybe?” JJ asked, mischievously, as he skated next to him.

“Actually I’m taking him out to dinner later since his _boyfriend_ isn’t here," Leo said and lightly bumped his shoulder into Otabek’s. For a moment he wondered if Leo somehow knew about Yuri but that wasn’t possible. The only people who knew from the skating world were Victor and Yuuri who swore to keep their mouths shut. Than again, rumors and theories that him and Yuri were ‘an item’, whatever that was supposed to mean, had been flying left and right since day one.

“That angry kitten?” JJ inquired. “Come on, Otabek can do better than that.” He laughed as though his words were the most obvious statement ever which made Otabek very tempted to bite back and tell him that he had no idea what he was talking about. If anything Yuri could probably do better, not him. “I’m just joking, relax, eh?”

“Be nice to him, it's his birthday after all,” Leo said shooting a look at JJ while he skated backward in front of them. “Anyway, I saw this awesome place on my run in the morning, you’ll like it so no arguing or sulking because he isn’t here. We’ll have fun, you’ll see." Leo smiled, bright and welcoming, before he turned around and took off.

“Kids,” JJ said, shaking his head as they watched Leo skate around Guang-Hong who laughed at something Leo must’ve said.

“They are our age, you know,” Otabek mused before taking off himself. The time for socializing was over. He needed to get some more practice in for some of his jumps and step sequences for tomorrow’s FS.

He appreciated Leo’s efforts to make his birthday more fun and social by taking him out and everything, but at the same time all he could think about was his Skype call with Yuri later that night. He missed him and it’d be another few weeks until they would see each other again. This time they were assigned to completely different Grand Prix qualifiers, which meant that they’d only get to see each other during the Final in December.

Practice passed quietly, all the skaters focusing on their own things until their time was up and they had to make space for pairs practice.

Leo told Otabek to meet him in the lobby at five thirty so he had a bit of time to kill, which he used for some more stretching, showering and getting dressed. Standing in the bathroom he looked into the mirror and tried to decide what to do with his hair, a problem he never really had with his old hairstyle. Now, even though most of his undercut was still there, the back and top were much longer. Yuri’s hairy ties used to litter every corner of his apartment and Yuri’s room at Lilia’s, now their roles were reversed. It was almost odd that his hair was as long as Yuri’s, or possibly even longer. Before, Otabek brushed and braided Yuri’s hair whenever Yuri felt stressed or emotionally exhausted and in desperate need of a pick me up. Now Yuri could return the favor, plus he was much better at it, obviously.

According to Leo the diner didn’t require any fancy clothing so he simply went with a gray shirt, black jeans and his leather jacket, basically his go to outfit when he didn’t feel inspired to figure out something more elaborate.

Just as he was about to leave his room he heard someone knock at his door. Had Leo gotten impatient and come up to get him?

“Special delivery, Mr. Altin,” the bellboy said as Otabek opened his door. In his hand he held a brown nondescript box, which Otabek took while thanking him.

He closed the door and then put down the box on his bed. There was no address on it, no postal stickers, absolutely nothing that would give away where the box had come from and who had sent it.

Curious Otabek opened it to find thin light green paper inside. A card with his name lay on top of it, the single world written in a familiar script.

_Happy Birthday, zhanym. I thought you might like these, plus, since you’re mine, it’d only be appropriate if you would look the part. - Yura_

Otabek couldn’t help but smile at Yuri’s words and the fact that he called Otabek his made his heart beat a little faster. He wondered if all these little things, small and simply words coming from Yuri, would ever stop exciting him. He hoped they wouldn’t. He was pretty sure they never would.

Putting the card aside he peeled back the paper to see what exactly was hidden beneath it. The first thing he found was a pair of black leather gloves, smooth and impossibly soft. They fit perfectly, of course. Next was a thick black scarf, a similar one to the one Yuri had borrowed and ‘accidentally’ never returned after Otabek stayed in St. Petersburg last December. Otabek didn’t mind since the scarf looked great on Yuri.

The last item was a leather bomber jacket with a Yuri style animal print embossed on the back and front. It wasn’t as flashy as most of Yuri’s animal print clothing, was more subdued and hidden. The embossed parts were lightly filled in with metallic paint a shade or two lighter than the jacket itself fitting in perfectly with Otabek’s mostly monochromatic wardrobe. All three gifts were absolutely perfect, and probably worth a fortune knowing Yuri—Victor had definitely influenced him way too much in that regard—but Otabek felt impossibly grateful nonetheless. It was sweet of him to do this, send the box all the way to the US and make sure itwould arrive on time.

Quickly he grabbed his phone and took a picture after putting on the jacket. Next he typed a message to Yuri thanking him for the gifts, reminded him of just how much he loved and cherished him, and then attached the picture before pressing send.

“That’s just unfair!” Leo groaned as Otabek approached him in the lobby. “Now I feel completely underdressed.” As much as Leo tried, a smile still snuck its way onto his face telling Otabek that he was merely joking.

“It is my birthday after all,” Otabek said, shrugging.

“That, my friend, is very true,” Leo agreed before putting his arm around Otabek’s shoulders and leading him outside.

The streets were busy with pedestrians and cars whizzing past, voices, music and the honking of cars and busses engulfed them. The air was crisp and the night fast approaching, the sky covered by a blanket of clouds successfully hiding the slowly appearing moon and the stars. Even though Almaty was just as busy, the cities in the US always felt differently than home. Maybe it was the language, maybe the size of things or the way people behaved. Otabek wasn’t sure.

“It’s right there around the next corner,” Leo assured him. “So, tell me, Yuri and you, is there something?”

Otabek felt tempted to say yes, to tell him about Yuri and how happy he made him, but it wasn’t his decision alone. They’d agreed on keeping it to themselves a few months ago and he couldn’t just break that agreement on a whim without asking Yuri about it.

“Better tell me how your crush on Guang-Hong is coming along,” Otabek said, evading answering completely. “Judging by the way you look at each other there has to be something.”

“We're just friends,” Leo said, his voice almost a bit sad as he said it. "I don't think he sees me like that. If he would, wouldn't he have done something about it a long time ago?"

"That goes two ways, Leo."

"I know." He groaned. "I tried but got scared and didn't do it."

Otabek could very much understand that notion. It's taken him a lot of courage and nerves to tell Yuri about his feelings, too. But he was glad he’d done it.

"Let's make a deal," Leo said while they waited for the light to change to green at the crossing. "If we get on the podium, silver or better, we'll confess our feelings." Otabek raised a surprised eyebrow at that. "Oh come on, I know you're totally into the Russian boy. Even a blind man would see it and he can't see shit."

We're his feelings for Yuri really that obvious? Maybe they were. He didn't really mind. He had nothing to hide, nothing to be embarrassed by. He loved Yuri.

"Fine," Otabek said. The deal was a bit unfair, he knew it, but if it'd help Leo finally do something about his feelings he was okay with it. If he was right about Guang-Hong's feelings for Leo, the latter would thank him. Besides according to the current standings there was a good chance that they'd make it on the podium together, though if they'd make gold and silver depended on how strongly JJ would perform.

They crossed the road and approached the diner. A few steps away from the door Leo's phone began to loudly ring. He pulled it out of his pocket and then looked at Otabek. "Go find us a place to sit, I'll be right there ‘cause I have to take this." Otabek nodded and Leo turned on his heels and accepted the call as he walked away.

The diner—Whisky in a Jar—was held in dark colors and heavy wood with guitar lead music playing from the speakers at a manageable volume. Waiters dressed in black and dark red fussed around the room carrying dishes and drinks, smiling and laughing as they passed each other or approached their tables. It didn't necessarily look like a place Leo would choose but he wasn't about to complain. It was an interesting place, unique, and he was sure that Yuri would like it. Before they'd leave later he'd have to sneakily take a picture or two.

Otabek looked around trying to spot an empty table. His eyes swept across the room and finally zeroed in on a blond figure sitting near a window.

It couldn't be, could it?

 

* * *

 

Convincing Yakov to let him fly to the US a week before the Cup of China, Yuri's first GP qualifier, had been a challenge and a half consisting of tremendous amounts of humiliating pleading and promising to come back with a diamond sharp focus on top of asking Katsudon for help. Yakov had a weak spot for the Japanese piggy for some reason, supposedly because he was the only person with manners and discipline, especially compared to Victor used to who spend more time fawning over Katsudon during practice than doing anything productive while they were still around.

Getting Leo involved hadn't really been part of Yuri's plan, but between his sixteen hour flight, trying to look presentable enough and making sure the package would make it, there was no way for him to figure out how to get Otabek to that diner without ruining everything. Leo had been surprised to say the least though Yuri wasn't sure what had surprised him more: his plan or the mere fact that he politely asked him for help.

Leo asked questions, of course he did, so it took all of Yuri's barely existing patience to not curse him out. Somehow he managed to convince him that he was coming all the way as merely Otabek's best friend. Yuri wasn't quite sure if Leo really believed him or just said so to avoid his temper. Either way, Yuri didn't care much. As long as Leo wouldn't run his mouth and ruin his plan he could think whatever he wanted.

The second person Yuri had to get involved was Otabek's coach, Anton, whom he needed to convince the hotel that he was staying with Otabek, even though he had a single room and Yuri's name wasn't anywhere to be found in the reservation. Anton assured them that Yuri wasn't some stalker and convinced them to give Yuri a key and take his stuff upstairs, though Yuri asked them to wait with the latter until Otabek would leave his room. A bellboy was then asked to take the package upstairs while Yuri quietly slipped back out into the streets. Luckily none of the other skaters decided to walk through the lobby while Yuri was there. The last thing he needed was for fucking JJ to see him.

At the diner Yuri found them a table near a window and then gone to the bathroom to fix his appearance. His eyes looked a bit tired since he hadn't gotten much sleep during his flight and his hair was kind of a wild mess. It'd grown quite a bit since he'd cut it in December. He ran his fingers through it to get rid of most of the tangles and then braided his bangs so that one could actually see his face properly. The white dress shirt he'd changed into on the plane was more wrinkled than he liked it to be but it was the best he could do. All things considered he looked okay, not great but good enough, hopefully. He knew that after all this time he didn't need to impress Otabek with his looks anymore, especially since he'd seen Yuri in every emotional state imaginable as well as in all sorts of various states of undress. But Yuri knew that looking as well as he could wouldn't hurt.

_Leo: be there is 5_

Those were easily the longest five minutes of Yuri's life. Looking through the window he actually spotted Otabek and Leo walking toward the diner. Fuck, Otabek looked good, even better than in the picture he'd sent. The Alexander McQueen jacket fit him perfectly, though for the price Yuri paid for it that was the least he could expect. He couldn't hear what they were saying but Leo pulled out his phone while saying something and then walked off just liked they'd planned. Otabek looked after him for a moment and then walked inside.

As much as Yuri tried he simply couldn't keep the stupid grin off his face as he watched Otabek look around the room until his eyes finally landed on him.

"Yura?" Otabek asked in disbelieved as he walked up to him. Yuri got up from his chair and pulled Otabek into a tight hug. It'd been a few weeks since they'd last seen each other in person and it felt so fucking good to have Otabek back in his arms again. Fucking hell if he wouldn't be careful he'd end up just as sappy and gross as the old geezer Victor.

"Happy birthday," Yuri quietly said close to Otabek's ear. It was the third time today that he said it, once via text as he waited for his flight in Paris, then on the card that came with the package, and now finally in person.

"What...how...?" Otabek pulled back to look at Yuri, the surprise written across his face, his eyes happy and gentle, a smile on his face. Spending more time on the plane than with Otabek before he had to go back was made more than worth it by seeing that expression on his face.

"I wasn't there for your twenty first, since I was fucked, so I thought the least I could do was make it up to you by being here for your twenty second," Yuri said as they sat down. A waitress quickly came over and placed two menus on the table.

"I..."

It was the first time that Yuri saw Otabek look completely stunned and lost for words, wondering if that was how he'd looked like almost a year ago when Otabek had skated that gala piece for him.

"So you meant 'can't wait to see you' literally in your text," he finally said and then let out a huff of air. "I was sure you were referring to a Skype call or something."

"That, zhanym, was the plan," Yuri said and smiled. "It's okay that I came, right?"

Even though Yuri had rendered Otabek speechless a tiny piece of him still worried that maybe he didn't want him there, that he would only be an unnecessary distraction the night before the FS. While he was on the plane and on the move he managed to push those worries aside but now with his boyfriend sitting across the table from him, he wasn't able to drown out the voices anymore.

Otabek cocked his head sideways a little and looked at Yuri as though he'd just said something almost endearingly stupid, like a kid who didn't know any better. Yuri was convinced that Otabek had drastically expanded his repertoire of expressions over the years, or maybe he'd just gotten a fuck ton better at reading him.

"Of course I am happy that you're here, come on Yura," Otabek finally said, his voice warm and honest. "I've missed you, a lot."

"Fucking sap."

"Says the guy who flew halfway across the world."

For a while they just looked at each other and smiled, a comfortable silence setting in around them. That was one of the many things Yuri loved about his relationship with Otabek, the fact that he didn't feel the need to fill every minute with speech, that they could just sit together and it felt just as great. Sure he loved listening to Otabek's stories and even just a recount of his day no matter how boring and uneventful, but the fact that their silence was comfortable felt important, valuable somehow.

Their waitress came by again to take their orders, nothing too fancy or heavy to eat and nothing too strong to drink. If Otabek didn't have to skate the next day, this evening would've contained a lot more food, a shitload of desserts and whatever they'd feel like drinking, plus a fuck ton of sex.

Quickly Yuri pushed the thought of the latter aside.

"I watched your short program last night," Yuri said as the waitress brought their drinks. "You were fucking amazing. Even better than in the last videos you showed me. That friend of yours, Leo, wasn't half bad either, but he stands no chance against you, obviously."

"Speaking of which, how did you get him to help you?"

"I asked." Otabek raised a doubtful eyebrow. "I'm seriously, I politely asked for his help that's all. I didn't call him an asshole or dick at any point during our brief conversation."

"I’m honored, and flattered." Now that just confused Yuri and it was his turn to raise a brow. "You did all of this for me, it's more than anyone ever did. You could've just sent the jacket, or even just a text, and I would've been happy, but the fact that you went through all the trouble to fly here. Thank you, Yura, a lot."

"You're very welcome, but do win gold tomorrow, that'll be 'thank you' enough."

Otabek laughed and nodded. He reached his hand across the table and, understanding his intentions, Yuri did the same. For a moment Yuri looked at their interlaced fingers until Otabek said: "I love you."

Yuri looked up at him, lightly blushing even though they'd exchanged those words a number of times since Otabek said them on the beach. "I love you, too."

After a while their waitress came by with their food, which tasted surprisingly good.

"I still can't believe you actually went with the song I told you about for your FS," Yuri said between bites.

"Well you also went with one of my songs so it only seems fair, no?"

"You know, I've never had you for a Lindsey Stirling kind of guy, more of a David Garrett type if anything."

Before Yuri became friends with Otabek and was introduced to his weird music taste, he hadn’t known either artist, at least not really. He’d heard both their names or seen them on occasional posters but never listened to their music. It wasn’t bad, but not really what Yuri would willingly listen to on a daily basis. Then again the same could probably be said about Apocalyptica yet there he was loving their shit.

"It's all Aisulu's fault, she used to be into her music a while back and practically forced me to listen to all her songs and give her my honest opinion," Otabek mused. "I guess somewhere along the way I actually started to like it." He shrugged.

"Sometimes you're too good of a brother for your own good, Beka," Yuri said, lightly laughing. "By the way, Aisulu seems to be growing fond of Justin Bieber. You should do something about that."

"Like she would listen to me."

Yuri didn’t know Aisulu too well even though they’d met a few times and talked a bit between visits, yet he wasn’t really surprised by Otabek’s reaction. The entire Altin family had a weak spot for Aisulu, which meant she basically did whatever she wanted and could get away with almost anything. It was hard to say no to her puppy eyes.

"You're her older brother, she should."

"Would you listen to your older brother, if you had one?"

"No," Yuri said, honestly. "But that's different. I don't listen to anyone, well besides maybe Yakov and Lilia on a good day. Do you listen to Serik?"

"Yes."

"That's exactly what I mean. You're too good of a person, Beka, with too proper manners.” Yuri leaned back in his chair for a moment. “Then again, I wouldn't have you any other way so it's okay. I'll gladly take the role of the asshole in this relationship."

Otabek laughed and shook his head.

 

* * *

 

Across his twenty-two years Otabek spent most of his birthdays far away from home with his family giving him wishes over the phone and hoping their care packages would make it on time. Usually they'd come in late but Otabek never minded. It was the thought that counted more than the presents themselves because they were symbols of his family's love and thoughts directed at him. Despite being so far away and busy more often than not they hadn't forgotten him, still loved him just as much. Of course after he finally moved back to Almaty everything changed and, as long as he wasn't assigned to a qualifier around his birthday, he could spend it with his family.

Never had a birthday away from home felt just like this one, felt like he was home even though he wasn't even on the right continent, and it was thanks to Yuri.

That wasn't to say that his family had forgotten about him, quite the contrary actually.

He knew his parents had a small present waiting for him when he'd return, his sister had blown up his phone in the morning to be the first to wish him a happy birthday, and Serik had asked him to be his best man at his wedding. As his brother he was overjoyed and felt honored to be given that role.

Despite all that Yuri still managed to blow everyone out of the water. Otabek most definitely hadn't expected the package he'd gotten from him, much less that he would fly all the way to the US to spend the evening with him.

Even though they were far away from either of their homes, Otabek felt at home looking at Yuri across the table smiling at him like Yuri didn't have a worry in this world, like everything he ever wished for was right there with him. It made Otabek's heart beat a little faster, joy circulating through his body infused with more love than he thought he'd be able to handle.

Otabek used to think that home was a place, the Altin family house in Almaty filled with childhood memories, the smell of his parents cooking, the sound of Aisulu's laughter and Serik's electric guitar, but slowly he was beginning to realize that home didn't have to be a place but could also be a person.

Yuri was home, and one beautiful day in the future Otabek would marry him, he was sure of that because even at this point he couldn't imagine a reality in which Yuri wasn't a part of his life.

The night had long fallen over the city as they left the diner and made their way back to the hotel. The sky had cleared but the stars were barely visible, obstructed by the city's light pollution. They didn't talk much but that was okay, comfortable even. The only thing that really mattered was that Yuri was there walking right next to him, his hand holding Otabek's, unashamed and unafraid even though any of the skaters staying at the hotel could spot them the closet they got.

Somehow they made it into Otabek's hotel room without anyone seeing them, which considering the hour wasn't that big of a surprise. Everyone wanted to go to sleep early to be relaxed and ready for the FS the next day. Otabek wanted to do many things but sleep wasn't one of them, though he knew he didn't have another choice. As much as he would've liked to stay awake all night to cherish every precious moment he had with Yuri, his career and skating were important, even more important at this point in time actually. He potentially had a whole life with Yuri ahead of him, but only so many competitive skating seasons.

"Someone posted a picture of Leo and I from earlier today as we were leaving the hotel," Otabek said as he sat on his bed and watched Yuri rummage through his small bag. "The jacket made quite the impression."

"You do look great in it so it better," Yuri said as he finally pulled out a pair of pajama pants and a loose black shirt.

"Thank you again, for the jacket. But I rather meant that the people on social media are currently trying to decide if your taste in fashion somehow started to influence me, resulting in me buying the jacket, or if maybe you got it for me and thus maybe we're more than just friends."

As much as Otabek loved Yuri, he was quite aware of just how ridiculous he would look like in most of Yuri's animal print clothes. It looked amazing on Yuri, fit him perfectly, but it wasn't Otabek's style at all. He preferred to stick to his gray or black or dark shirts and leather jackets and dark jeans, though the jacket he got from Yuri was the exception. 

Yuri got up and walked over to Otabek, sitting down on the bed next to him. He took Otabek's wrist and moved it enough so he could look at the picture on the screen and the article that came along with it.

"It's fucking insane that we managed to slip by for almost a year without anyone really catching on or snapping a picture that would deliver the right ‘proof’," he finally said.

"Would you mind if people would know?"

For a moment Yuri remained silent. "No. It would make things easier, kind of. At least we wouldn't have to be fucking sneaky and careful whenever we're out in public afraid that someone might 'catch' us."

"Then maybe we should slip them a hint, subtle yet obvious enough to give them their proof and us our freedom?" Otabek offered, remembering what Yuuri had told him back in Japan. "We don't have to kiss during the Cup of China or anything."

Yuri snorted understanding the reference easily. That kiss was practically famous among skaters, though it remained the only instance of such open affection shown at a competition, especially between a coach and his skater.

"How about the Rostelecom Cup instead?" Yuri joked, lightly laughing. "No but I like what you're thinking. At least that way we’d be the ones in control; we decide how it’ll happen instead of someone else deciding it for us. Just don't let us end up like Katsudon and the geezer with their fucking endless stream of kissy pictures and all that crap."

Otabek locked his phone and put it on the nightstand. "That reminds me, I actually made a deal with Leo earlier today."

"A deal?" Yuri raised an eyebrow. "Tell me."

"Leo has a crush on the Chinese skater, Guang-Hong, but he's too afraid to do something about it," Otabek began. "So we made a deal that if we'd end up with silver or better, he would tell him about his feelings and I would tell you about mine."

"I wonder if the idiot was aware of how stupid that deal was from where he's at," Yuri said and raised his hand to lightly push a strand of hair from Otabek's face and behind his ear. "Or if he is well aware that there is something between us, especially after I asked him for help, and thus consciously made the deal to motivate himself."

Otabek put his hand over Yuri's keeping it in place resting against his cheek while never taking his eyes off of Yuri's glass green ones. A shiver ran down Otabek's spine in reaction to Yuri's thumb lightly caressing his skin while his eyes turned so gentle and unguarded Otabek was sure he'd never seen anyone with just this beautiful eyes. "Whichever it might be, I'm fairly sure we'll manage silver and gold which in turn would give me the opportunity to slip our hint."

Yuri yawned and then lightly blushed as though he was embarrassed by it.

"You're tired," Otabek said, more of a statement then a question. He didn't even want to imagine how exhausted Yuri must have been after coming all this way to see him.

"What hint do you have in mind?" Yuri asked instead.

"Don't you worry about that, I'll think of something." Otabek smiled. He did actually have an idea and, to probably everyone's surprise, it involved social media, Instagram to be more precise. But it had to wait until after the FS.

Instead of asking him about it, Yuri moved closer and kissed him. At first his lips were barely there, felt light as a feather but then the feeling slowly shifted, turned more hungry and fueled by fire, desire and longing. Yuri moved further, so far that he finally straddled Otabek, his hands holding fistfuls of his shirt pulling him closer while Otabek's hands moved down his waist toward Yuri's ass.

Slowly Otabek moved his hand back up and under Yuri's shirt, his skin soft against the tips of Otabek's fingers. Yuri let go of his shirt and instead threw his arms over Otabek's shoulders, one of his hands wandering up into his hair pulling the hair tie out of it so his fingers could move across Otabek's scalp.

A small moan escaped Yuri as Otabek trailed kisses along his jaw and down his neck, his teeth occasionally grazing Yuri’s skin just the way he knew would drive Yuri mad. The adorable little sounds he made in response were more than proof of it. Yuri leaned his head back a little further giving Otabek easier access to trail more kisses along his collar and back up his neck on the other side.

"Let's take a shower," Otabek said slightly breathless before they kissed again. They continued as they stood up and moved toward the bathroom, bumping into almost everything that was between the bed and the door.

 

* * *

 

Yuri was impossibly exhausted and spent as they lay in bed a while later, but how could he sleep when Otabek was running his fingertips gently up and down his bare back along his spine?

The room was dark, the only sound being their breathing disturbing the otherwise completely silent space. It was late and they really should sleep, at least Otabek should. Yuri raised his head and smiled at him before he curled up against Otabek, his head resting on his chest and his palm over his heart. Yuri could feel it beat steadily and calmly, an even rhythm that would hopefully lull him to sleep quickly. Before closing his eyes Yuri moved his head again, enough to lightly place a kiss against Otabek’s skin. Meanwhile Otabek lightly put his arms around Yuri and then sighed seemingly content.

“Good night, Yura,” he whispered.

As more quiet set in and Yuri hoped to fall asleep his mind began to wander. His season was about to begin, the Cup of China approaching faster than he was prepared for it. He was ready, practiced his heart out across the past few months trying to perfect his routines on and off the ice with Yakov and Lilia. But, despite all that, a voice still nagged at the back of his mind whispering about his past two seasons, and especially the disaster that was the Grand Prix, the articles that shamed him, called him out as nothing but a disappointment, unworthy and laughable. What if it would happen again, if he would break down again, fail once more like he had last season?

As much as he fucking despised admitting it, he was afraid, scared fucking shitless more than ever during his years as skater. He thought he’d gotten used to the pressure and expectations since he had many years to adjust to them, but right in that moment he felt like he was about to compete for the first time in his life going completely blind. That was a stupid thought, of course, but silencing those thoughts was growing harder the closer the Grand Prix came.

Maybe he should apologize to Yuuri for always calling him out for his anxiety while he still competed, for the time he cried alone in a stall back in Sochi. Back then Yuri hadn’t known this feeling, but now he did and he felt actually bad for being mean.

A few days ago Yuri asked Katsudon if he should tell Otabek about his feelings and worries, wondering if it would be the right thing to do or if he should just suck it up and deal with it on his own like he used to. Katsudon reminded him, like so many times before, that communication was the key to a healthy and long-lasting relationship. If something was bothering Yuri he should tell his partner about it. But should he really do it one night before the FS, bother Otabek with such trivial bullshit?

“Beka?” Yuri asked, quietly. “Are you still awake?” Part of him wanted Otabek not to respond, to really be asleep already, while the other hoped he would be awake.

“Yeah?” came as answer, something between a sigh and a grunt. “You okay?”

“I...” Maybe he should just let it be? “I’m worried.” It was vague enough that he could still back out of talking if he got too scared. After all this time this really shouldn’t be so fucking hard. It was just Otabek, he wouldn’t judge him or think of him as lesser because of this, yet it was still so horribly nerve wrecking to voice what was on his mind.

“Why?” Otabek’s voice was stronger now, less sleepy and more concerned. Yuri immediately started to feel guilty. “Yura? What’s wrong?”

“What if I fail again? What if I’m not good enough?”

He was pathetic and probably ruining an otherwise perfect evening. He should tell Otabek to forget about it, go back to sleep, but he knew it was too late now. Otabek wouldn’t let this slide, even if he’d say he would.

Otabek carried a far greater burden than Yuri, he was the hero of his nation, a national treasure almost, and everybody counted on him to succeed and bring glory to their country, yet he didn’t complain like Yuri. He took it with pride and determination, fearless and strong. Yuri was neither, he wasn’t strong and he definitely wasn’t fearless even though probably everyone thought otherwise. It was easy to pretend confidence, be loud and curse out anyone who crossed his path, but actually believing it, especially after he’d failed so abysmally last season, it was just so hard.

He badly wanted to override his fear with anger, but somewhere between being fifteen and nineteen that stopped working. At fifteen he could get away with uncontrolled rage but not anymore. He had to learn to deal with his emotions no matter how much he fucking hated it.

“You won’t fail, Yura,” Otabek said, his voice even and calm as though he truly believed what he was saying. “You’ve worked harder than ever these past months so there is no way you won’t kick everyone’s ass, including mine, probably.”

“How can you be sure?” Yuri asked and raised his head to look at him. He could barely make out Otabek’s face in the dark but he could feel his eyes looking at him, his fingers drawing soothing circles across his skin.

For a moment Otabek remained silent causing the worried voices in Yuri’s head to only scream louder. It’d been a mistake to say something, he should’ve just let it rest, try and deal with it on his own.

“I’m sorry,” Yuri finally said and looked away. His eyes were slowly beginning to sting and fuck he really didn’t want to cry, not now, not while he was still in bed with Otabek. He could cry once he’d be on his plane back home or back in his room. “Just forget about it.” His voice broke away and he bit his tongue. Pathetic.

Suddenly he felt Otabek’s fingers on his jaw slowly trying to turn his head around, make him look into his eyes. It was the last thing Yuri wanted to do but he still complied.

“There is no need to apologize,” Otabek assured him. “It’s perfectly normal for you to be worried but you shouldn’t break your head over it. If you feel like crying, just let it out, maybe it’ll help you? I’m here, okay? You will do great, I’m sure, I really am. I have utmost faith in you because if there is one person who can fall down and get back up stronger than ever before it’s Yuri Plisetsky, the Ice Tiger of Russia.”

 _Fuck_. Now he really was crying though due to completely different reasons. How was it possible that Otabek had this much faith in him after everything that happened? And how was it possible for Yuri to now love him even more than before, even though he’d been certain that it was impossible to love him any more than he already did?

“I love you, Yura, regardless if you win gold or come in last,” Otabek added. “But I know you will blow us all away.”

“Will you kiss me or not?” Yuri asked, mimicking the first question Otabek had ever asked him in that exact same way, though using different words and context. Something like a laugh bubbled up in his throat due to just how ridiculous this entire moment was while a few more tears ran down Yuri’s face.

That night Yuri fell asleep with his back against Otabek’s chest, Otabek’s arms around his waist, and his mind calm and quiet. He could do this. He would fight his way onto that podium, breeze through the qualifiers, and he would take the gold at the GPF for himself, the man he loved, the grandfather he lost, and prove his country wrong, show them that he was more than worthy of bearing their flag.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I LIVE for Alexander McQueen so, after I described the jacket that Yuri got Otabek, I went and basically googled "animal print leather jacket" and voila this one showed up and looked almost exactly like what I had in mind. I simply couldn't say no, even though the price is killer: http://www.neimanmarcus.com/en-gb/Alexander-McQueen-Leopard-Print-Jacquard-Varsity-Jacket-with-Leather-Sleeves-Metallic-Black/prod196550460/p.prod?ecid=NMAF__Hy3bqNL2jtQ&CS_003=5630585
> 
> Otabek's hair is based on this amazing piece of art: http://ma-lish.tumblr.com/post/154822883501/otayuri-designs-by-the-lovely-istehlurvz-made-me
> 
> When it comes to the two music pieces for their FS, I actually again went and tried both out to make sure they could work. I think they do, and surely someone who is a proper skater AND choreographer could do something amazing with them.  
> Yuri's: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=49tpIMDy9BE (Context and lyrics wise I think it'd fit Yuri really well. I might go more into why in the next chapter, not quite sure yet. Interested?)  
> Otabek's: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=J8rdExa0Vfc (I recently rediscovered Apocalyptica and somehow I thought it'd be a nice blend between Yuri's rockish-punkish-standofish persona and Otabek's preference toward classical music when it comes to skating)
> 
> Usually I update every Friday and Sunday, but since I am sick right now, I only started to write the next chapter last night (also because writing this chapter took a hell of a lot of time like I mentioned on tumblr) so I'm not sure if I'll have it ready by Sunday. I'm sorry. I hope you won't be too mad! :(
> 
> So any thoughts? I greatly appreciate every comment and kudos you guys leave me. It truly helps me stay motivated and write more chapters, make them better each time. :)


	10. Shatter Me (Age 19)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title song: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=49tpIMDy9BE
> 
> not beta'd.

Yuri was in a foul mood once he arrived at the airport the next day. Partially because he hadn’t slept much and his flight back home was almost fifteen hours long, but mostly because he was sad that he couldn't stick around long enough to watch Otabek's free skate live. What cheered him up, at least a little, was the fact that his flight offered on board Internet and thus access to a Russian livestream.

The guy sitting next to him, some chubby fifty year old asshole, kept on stealing glances at his screen like there was something freaky or strange about watching figure skating on a plane, or in general. Any other day he would tell the guy to go fuck himself, but that day he felt too nervous and excited to see Otabek perform.

Hell he would fucking lose his shit if Tatiana wouldn't go mental over just how amazing his FS was. If she'd like JJ's performance more than Otabek's, Yuri would go and file a complaint against that woman like it's nobody's business. He didn’t care if her list of successes and credentials was far longer than his would ever be and Russia would definitely chooser her over him.

"Mind if I watch too?" the guy next to Yuri asked in heavily accented Russian damasking him as Brit who tried to show off. What a loser.

"Sure, whatever," Yuri answered in English and turned his laptop ever so slightly. The guy couldn't hear shit but that wasn't Yuri’s problem and not something he worried about.

"My daughter loves figure skating so I want to snag up some good dad points and surprise her by knowing who won and whatnot."

 _Shut up_ , was what Yuri wanted to say, but decided against it. Instead he remained silent and just watched the screen.

After what felt like ten hours, the last group was about to take the ice, the one that contained the actually worthy skaters. Except JJ, but a group couldn't just count five people.

First up was Goang-Hong followed by some Italian guy Yuri didn't know—not the incest twin—and then Leo. The latter did surprisingly well so maybe he would manage silver and have to keep up that deal he'd made with Otabek.

JJ came and went. Tatiana seemed pleased with his performance but not too much as to piss Yuri off. His FS was good, but Otabek's was better. Besides, JJ seemed a bit distracted or out of it, it was hard to tell due to the low quality of the stream. Maybe it had something to do with his wife being pregnant or something? How she managed to stay by that assholes side for so long was beyond Yuri at this point.

"He was good," the guy commented even though there was absolutely no need for him. What was giving him the impression that Yuri cared about his thoughts, especially on JJ?

"He's an asshole," Yuri deadpanned. That shut the guy up.

Second to last was Otabek. Yuri immediately tensing up in his seat as the handsome face of his boyfriend appeared on the screen. He talked to Anton and then skated toward the center to get into his starting position.

Even though Yuri had seen his FS routine countless times across the past months, it was still something completely different to see it during competition. The music was powerful, loud and took up the entire space but Otabek's choreography complemented it perfectly, each move perfectly timed, each jump flawlessly executed. Yuri felt like he was watching a storm raging across the ice, captivating, strong and fucking amazing.

The original song had actually been a couple dozen seconds too short, which meant that Otabek needed to change it around a bit. Usually other people did it for them, but Otabek decided to do it himself. Yuri still remembered his surprise when Otabek had told him about his very odd hobby that simultaneously didn’t fit him at all while fitting perfectly: DJing.

It most definitely explained why his music divided into two categories that contrasted each other so starkly Yuri could barely understand how that worked. On one side there was classical shit originally composed by long dead guys, their music overdone by about a billion other people over the centuries. And then there was EDM. Someone seriously needed to explain Yuri how Bach and Deadmau5 fit together because he didn’t understand it.

To no ones surprise Otabek took gold while Leo actually managed to grab silver just as Yuri predicted, though with barely a one point advantage over JJ. Yuri was very pleased and proud as he watched the medal ceremony and the glistening medal was hung around Otabek's neck.

"You must be quite the fan of his," the guy said pulling Yuri out of his thoughts. He hadn't even realized how hard he was grinning. _Bravo, Plisetsky, you're making a fool of yourself._ Yuri mentally bitch slapped himself for that one.

"That's true," he said without taking his eyes off the screen. JJ and Leo climbed up to Otabek's right and left for the closer pictures, all of them holding up their medals.

"He was good," the guy continued. "With his looks I'm sure he's getting all the ladies."

Yuri wanted to laugh. "I'm his boyfriend." He would never get over that simple fact, and saying it out long to another person felt amazing. Yuri was actually looking forward to people knowing about their relationship since it would finally allow him to go around and brag that the hero of Kazakhstan was his fucking boyfriend. _Take that, Victor, mine is better than yours!_

Slowly Yuri turned his head to look at the guy wanting to catch his reaction. The guy looked taken aback, his mouth forming a surprised, or maybe rightfully embarrassed, 'O'.

"I didn't know he is in a relationship." He laughed awkwardly. "Guess I must've not listened too carefully while my daughter was telling me about that skater."

"You should pay better attention when people talk to you," Yuri said, well aware of how rude his words came across. He didn't care much. What he did care about was the fact that he was getting tired and his boyfriend just won gold.

They landed safely in Paris for the layover and Yuri was very eager to get out of that plane as quickly as possible, not that there was a need to hurry. He had over an hour to kill until his next flight.

"What's your name, by the way?" the guy asked as they were pulling out their shit from the overhead compartment. "I'm Gary Crossan. It’s nice to meet you."

Yuri couldn't give less of a shit what that guy’s name was and he felt very tempted to tell him so. If he were still fifteen he probably would but not anymore.

"Yuri," he said before walking off. "Yuri Plisetsky." He looked back at the guy— _Gary_ —over his shoulder just in time to see his jaw practically hit the flood. Dude really hadn't paid any sort of attention while his daughter told him about skaters, or maybe she hadn't even mentioned Yuri because of how badly he fucked up last year, marked him off as irrelevant and replaceable.

Quickly he pushed that thought aside and instead remembered what Beka told him last night, the sole fact that he had faith in him and his abilities.

Once Yuri landed in St. Petersburg he was practically assaulted by his vibrating phone going absolutely batshit crazy after he connected it to the Internet. Otabek must've posted whatever he planned on posting, the subtle hint as he called it. Yuri wondered what it could be as he scrolled through the notifications plastered across his screen.

_@otabek-altin tagged you in a photo._

A picture? Yuri hadn't expected that, especially because it was Otabek who still posted way too rarely despite Yuri's persistent reminders and speeches about his online presence, or rather the lack thereof.

Quickly Yuri unlocked his phone and opened Instagram curious to see what kind of photo Otabek had chosen that would explain all the tweets and other notifications he was getting. The Angels were losing their minds. Yuri really should turn off the twitter notifications, or at least limit them to only alert him if the other skaters tweeted him or whatever.

The photo showed Yuri sitting on a bed, though in the picture itself you couldn’t see the bed, with his back turned toward the camera. His head was subtly turned so he could look over his shoulder toward the camera, or rather Otabek hidden behind it, with the ghost of a smile on his lips. He wore Otabek’s Team Kazakhstan jacket, which he’d long claimed as his forcing Otabek to get a second one. The lighting wasn’t too great, especially since there was a window right behind Yuri, soft morning light flooding the room giving the picture a much too clichéd feeling as for Yuri’s taste though, looking at it, he couldn’t deny that it was a good picture. Fuck, it was a great picture taken in Otabek’s bedroom in Almaty just a few months ago.

Yuri scrolled down to look at the caption but found none. No caption and no hashtags, just the picture and a fuck ton of likes and comments. He could see that some of the other skaters had liked it; some also left comments though the only one Yuri could find without having to actively look for it came from Leo.

_@leo-de-la-iglesia: @otabek-altin @yuri-plisetsky I FUCKING KNEW IT!_

With a smile Yuri double tapped the picture and then pushed his phone back into his pocket. As for Otabek standards this was kilometers away from subtle. Yuri thought he might post a picture of something, anything, Russia related, maybe even his Team Russia jacket, the one Otabek had clamed as his as ‘revenge’, or some sort of tweet or whatever. He hadn’t expected something quite as obvious as that picture, though Yuri didn’t mind at all.

It would only be a question of time until reporters would blow up his phone with questions, until Mila would see the picture and give him hell for it, but Yuri couldn’t be bothered to worry about it. He promised to come back to Russia with diamond sharp focus, in exchange for being allowed to fly to the US, so that was what he planned on doing. Yuri would show Yakov that he was responsible, that he could keep his word, and that he would kick ass at the Cup of China and the Rostelecom Cup.

The following Monday Yuri lay in bed completely exhausted from practice. He’d almost spent the entire day on the ice getting some last minute work in to be extra ready for China. Absentmindedly he scrolled through his camera roll until his eyes landed on a picture giving him an idea.

Quickly he switched to Instagram and pulled up the picture, added a very uncreative caption consisting of the Russian and Kazakhstani flag along with #mancrushmonday. The picture was similar to the one Otabek had posted in that it showed Otabek wearing Yuri’s Team Russia jacket with Oxana sitting in his lap on the sofa in Lilia’s living room. Otabek didn’t look into the camera, hadn’t even noticed that Yuri had taken it, and instead looked at Oxana with a fond expression in his eyes as he petted her.

Otabek was a keeper, approved by his grandpa and his cat, and one day Yuri would make him his in the most official way there was with a whole life ahead of them.

 

* * *

 

The Cup of China rolled around a few days later and Yuri found himself walking toward the ice with his group getting ready to perform his short program for the first time. He felt ready, excited and just a little bit nervous, though not because he was afraid but rather because he couldn’t wait to see everybody’s reactions once he’d finish the day in first place.

Yakov and Lilia stood to his sides and quietly said something to him, though he didn’t listen too carefully. He got the general gist of their words, which was enough since they were nothing more than encouragements and assurances, or whatever they considered that to be.

His phone vibrated with a series of incoming texts.

_Victor:_ _頑張って, Yurio!_

_Katsudon:_ давай _, Yurio!_

This felt disgustingly reminiscent of his senior debut and how they’d screamed that at him like he needed their cheering. But, unlike at fifteen, he knew they only meant well and really did want him to perform his best, cheering him on not because they thought he needed their pity but because they, just like Otabek, had faith in his abilities.

The last text was from Otabek, short and to the point, the same one as they always sent each other before performing during competitions when they couldn’t do it in person.

 _Beka:_ давай _, Yura._

Yuri stepped on the ice last in his group and completely obliterated his competition, finishing his short program with a rare smile knowing he truly gave his best. His score was amazing, not quite as good as his world record, but good enough to give him a ten-point advantage over the dickhead who was in second place.

Victorious and happy Yuri took gold at the Cup of China, a brilliant beginning to his comeback foreboding nothing but a successful season. This time he would make it to the final and he would take gold even if it’d be the last thing he would do.

The press threw questions upon questions at him about his performances, his skating and his hopes for the season, and, to no one’s surprise, his relationship. But the world didn’t end or implode because of it, nor was it as bad as he anticipated it would be. Maybe they hadn’t been as sneaky as they thought they were across the past months, or maybe their shippers simply managed to convince the non-shippers enough since Barcelona that everyone seemed rather vindicated in their believes instead of shocked.

Either way Yuri was glad that no one made that big of a deal out of it, probably because him and Otabek weren’t as flashy with their relationship as Victor and Katsudon were. No one could reach their levels of gross and overly public, not even JJ and his wife though they were a close second.

At Trophée de France Otabek easily took gold, keeping Emil and Michele in check. His place at the final was secured and now the only thing left was for Yuri to qualify as well so they could finally see each other again, even though December was still painfully far away.

“So you and Otabek, who would’ve thought, eh?” JJ said walking up next to Yuri at the Rostelecom Cup. Some douchface had decided to put them in the same group, JJ going before Yuri, which meant he had to suffer through that assholes presence if he wanted to or not.

“No one cares about your opinion, asshole, so fuck off,” Yuri said without taking his eyes off of the screen in front of them, the last skater from group four finishing his SP. He fell like three times. Loser.

“Now, now, I just wanted to congratulate you, no need to be so angry about it.” He sounded way too cheerful as for Yuri’s liking and, surprisingly enough, he didn’t feel like continuing their harmless bickering. At fifteen he would’ve jumped at his throat and called JJ out until he’d drop dead, but at nineteen going at twenty, he was way more interested in focusing on his upcoming skate than at some unimportant asshole. Maybe Victor was right and he really was more mature now. Phichit would not approve since he seemed to strive off of live tweeting his fights with JJ, or any skater who dared as much as look at him the wrong way really.

Yuri could see Phichit in the corner of his eye standing not too far away from them, his phone out ready for tweeting or filming or whatever. Yuri felt the urge to flip him off, and then flip JJ off, but decided against it. This felt so fucking weird, the fact that he was slowly learning how to control his rage fueled impulses. If someone had told him this would happen years ago, he wouldn’t have believed it. Hell he still didn’t believe it right now. Otabek would be proud of him.

“Yeah, whatever,” Yuri said and then walked off to pretend to talk to Yakov instead.

Two days later Yuri was fucking ready to cut a bitch because JJ dared to beat him by literally less than half a point. How that asshole managed to do that was beyond Yuri and he felt impossibly angry because of it, almost like during his senior debut when JJ managed to beat him both times during his qualifiers.

As they stood on the podium Yuri promised himself that he would beat JJ’s ass at the final just like he’d done during his senior debut. At the same time he swore to shed blood should JJ somehow keep Otabek from medaling, again, just like in Barcelona because even four years later he still wasn’t over that particular incident. He was still convinced that Otabek should’ve gotten bronze that year and not JJ.

 

* * *

 

For some reason the press found Yuri’s choice of music for his FS—Shatter Me by Lindsey Stirling—odd and kept on asking him questions about it over and over again. What was the story behind it? Why had he chosen it? What the fuck, Yuri?

He’d gotten more or less the same reaction from Victor months earlier when he’d sent him the song and asked him to choreograph his FS to it. Admittedly it was quite the change from the music Lilia had chosen for him for the previous three seasons. She made him stick to classical pieces, complicated and high-difficulty ones, and that was fine and shit, but Yuri wanted to change something, finally say something with his music and choreography and not just do it for points and awestruck stares.

While Katsudon had his Eros story of a playboy pursuing a beautiful woman and Victor his lonely man searching for love, Yuri had himself trapped within a glass case. Before he broke down last December under the weight and pressure that Russia and the press were putting on him, he’d never minded being the prodigy, the poster boy for brilliance about to take over Victor’s legacy with beauty, strength and talent. After his breakdown he didn’t want to play that role anymore.

Just like Victor had once told him in an odd wave of nostalgia about his career and life of solitude, Yuri’s talent was alienating him from the people around him, making him feel lonely, even if he wasn’t actually lonely, or alone, or both. He had Otabek, Katsudon, Victor, Yuuko, and basically the entire Russian team training under Yakov. He devoted his life to practicing his artistry and skills, endless training sessions on and off the ice, hours spent at Lilia’s ballet studio.

Otabek had showed Yuri that there was more to life than just skating with a tunnel vision like focus, that there were people out there worth knowing, worth falling in love with, a whole world waiting to be explored, literally and figuratively in terms of emotions. Yuri wanted all that, wanted happiness, wanted to know what it felt like to live, to be human, to be himself. Maybe he’d judged Victor too harshly all those years ago when he’d thrown his career aside to coach Yuuri and pursue love.

Somewhere along the way of Yuri’s career, people stopped seeing him as human, as just another person with an actual personality, feelings and thoughts. All he was to them was a younger version of Victor, a title bearer holding up the Russian flag working his ass off to bring the country glory and try not to fuck up along the way.

He didn’t want to stand in that glass case anymore, wanted to be human again, wanted to be seen as Yuri the person and not just Yuri the Russian skater. Yes, he wanted people to recognize his skating, the work he put into it, the titles he earned, but he wanted them to remember that he was also just a nineteen year old boy wanting to live a happy life. He wanted them to remember that their words had an impact on him, that they felt like a whip cutting across his skin leaving bleeding cuts and scars.

If he could shatter the way they perceived him, bury the fairy once and for all along with Victor 2.0, he could finally break free and become Yuri Plisetsky standing on his own and not in someone else’s shadow. All he could do was hope that the people watching him would understand his message, that it would have an impact on their thinking.

Years ago Lilia had told him that he escaped the image of the prima ballerina and became his own thing, but that had never been true, even if he escaped the prima ballerina. It’d only made way for yet another role he had to play and couldn’t escape. Now was his time to put the roles aside and just be himself.

That was what that song meant to him, but at the end of the day it was up to everybody else to be open enough to understand it and, fuck, he hoped they would because he was getting so fed up and tired with trying to be someone he wasn’t. He wasn’t Victor, would never be Victor, and the only thing that stood between Yuri and reaching his goal was claiming the last world record as his, even if Katsudon held it and not Victor. They were basically one at this point so it counted.

“Tell me I can do this,” Yuri said looking at Otabek minutes before he was supposed to go on the ice for his FS at the Grand Prix Final. Otabek moved forward and leaned his forehead against Yuri’s.

“You can and will do this, Yura,” he said, nothing more than a soft whisper. “You will be brilliant and you will get at least silver.” He smirked ever so slightly and Yuri swore his knees just got weaker because of it.

“You think you stand a chance?” Yuri challenged.

They both turned their heads at the sound of a phone camera taking pictures. Phichit stood a few meters away from them looking horrified. Idiot must’ve forgotten to turn off the sound of his phone before going into fucking stalker mode.

“Delete that you asshole!” Yuri roared ready to go and break his phone. As much as he didn’t necessarily mind people seeing him with Otabek, he minded people taking sneaky pictures to win extra likes. That number worked perfectly with Victor and Katsudon, but Yuri wouldn’t let that happen to him and Otabek.

“It’s a good picture,” Phichit argued.

“Send it to me, and then delete it,” Otabek said, calmly. Phichit sighed and, surprisingly enough, actually did it. Why were people doing what Otabek asked them to do but never what Yuri wanted them to do? Unfair.

Once Yuri was sure that Phichit was gone, and none of the other skaters lingered around with their phones, he turned back to Otabek. Even though he’d performed his FS twice so far he somehow felt way more nervous now than the last two times. It was probably because this time it actually mattered the most, the GPF medal worth way more than those at the qualifiers.

“давай,” Otabek said and then kissed him. It wasn’t any sort of special kiss, nothing crazy or overly passionate, but it was more than enough. The fact that they could do that, that it’d been a year since they’d kissed for the first time, it was more than Yuri could comprehend even during the best of times.

Kissing Otabek at the GPF this time felt completely different than it had a year prior. Last year he’d been devastated and had finally seen a light on the horizon, a lighthouse to guide him to safety during the shitstorm that was his life. This time he was happy, excited and positive. There were people who loved him, people who believed in him no matter if he fell or flew, and the boy he’d loved even before he consciously knew it loved him back more than he ever even hoped another person would be able to love him.

“Go get them, tiger.”

It was everything Yuri needed to forget his nerves and step onto the ice with his head held high.

 

* * *

 

Otabek stood and watched as Yuri skated across the ice, his performance absolutely flawless and filled with raw emotions and artistry to a degree he’d never seen before. There was something special about the whole routine, the way Yuri moved to the music, the way he jumped and landed perfectly in sync with the beat, his spins powerful yet performed with ease, at least Yuri made it look that way though Otabek knew there wasn’t anything easy about them. Even though the song was so different from anything Yuri had used before, it was still clearly him, the lyrics and voice haunting and unguarded, almost pleading to a certain degree. Victor had done an outstanding job when it came to the choreography, no doubt, but Yuri had definitely taken it to a whole new level.

Yuri would win, that much he knew for certain, because there was no way him or JJ would be able to beat that. Yuri was finally back, his comeback perfect just like he wished for it to be.

He wanted to feel jealous or angry because he would only get silver, but looking at the sheer happiness on Yuri’s face as he finished his program and bowed to the judges and the audience, he couldn’t feel anything but proud. Watching Yuri break down more and more until he couldn’t take it no more had been awful and hurt more than he thought it would, so seeing him claim back his throne after the past two seasons was nothing short of breathtaking. He deserved it.

Nikolai would be so proud of Yuri.

Yuri so badly wanted to break free, to prove himself worthy of representing Russia after everything they wrote about him following last year’s Grand Prix, and he’d been so worried that he wouldn’t manage to do it. After that free skate Otabek was more than sure that Yuri had done it, that this performance would leave a mark big enough that even the most shitty papers that seemed to dislike Yuri just for the fun of it wouldn’t be able to deny its brilliance.

As Yuri stepped off the ice, Victor and Yuuri approached him with wide smiles on their faces. Yuuri said something while Victor pulled out a flower crown that he placed on Yuri’s head. It was made of white flowers, though Otabek wasn’t quite sure which ones, and it definitely reminded him of the blue flower crown he’d seen Victor wear in a picture from one of his competitions years ago. It was a nice gesture, as though the king was giving his crown to his more than worthy successor.

Surprisingly enough Yuri didn’t seem to hate it—he looked absolutely gorgeous with it since it fit nicely with his light blond hair and dark costume—and left it on his head as he walked to the kiss and cry with Yakov and Lilia.

Otabek walked over to Victor and Yuuri standing close to the kiss and cry while they waited for Yuri’s score. Yuri skated last so this was the final judgment, whatever his score would be would decide his final placement and which medal he’d receive. Otabek could see the nervous anticipation on Yuri’s face and his hand clenched into fists. Otabek’s own heartbeat quickened the longer they waited.

There were actual tears in Yuri’s eyes as his score was announced, not only a new personal best but also a whole new world record beating Yuuri’s by four points. In the corner of his eye Otabek could see Victor hugging Yuuri, tears pooling in their eyes as well because they were proud parents through and through. Yuri jumped up, hugged Yakov and Lilia, who seemed pleasantly surprised by his outburst of positive emotion, and then raced toward Otabek, basically throwing himself at him.

Otabek caught Yuri with ease, wrapping his arms around Yuri’s frame pulling him close. Yuri had his arms around his neck and his legs tightly around his waist. He could hear cameras taking a billion pictures, the crowd going wild cheering and screaming, but he so didn’t care. His boyfriend just broke a world record and won the GPF, everything else wasn’t important right now.

“I did it,” Yuri said, his voice tainted by disbelief and tears, close to Otabek’s ear.

“I always knew you could do it,” Otabek said and kissed the side of Yuri’s head. “Congratulations!”

Never had someone else’s victor made him quite this happy, especially because now they were back on equal ground, their fight for gold balanced again. Yuri was back in top form, as was Otabek, which meant that this season would be so much fun and their fight for gold at Worlds more interesting than ever before.

Together with Victor, Yuuri and Phichit, Otabek stood and waited for Yuri’s turn to perform his gala piece the next day. Neither of them had seen it yet since Yuri made such a secret out of it for some reason. All he knew was that it was choreographed by Johnny Weir which by itself was exciting. Otabek didn’t even know what to expect really, though he was sure it’d be interesting to watch to say the least.

“Now on the ice, the Grand Prix Final males singles gold medalist representing Russia, Yuri Plisetsky,” the announcer said as Yuri came onto the ice. Loud cheers welcomed him only growing louder in response to his costume.

Yuri was dressed all in black except for a pair of red gloves. He wore a long sleeved shirt, black leggings and a flowing black skirt that was short in the front and long in the back. His hair was braided impeccably and he just looked stunning overall, not that Otabek expected any less from Yuri.

“He will be skating to ‘Creep’ by Kimberly Nichole,” the announcer added.

The music began and Yuri set into motion perfectly in tact with the beat. It was obvious after just a few seconds that this program wasn’t by Victor, the style completely different, though so Yuri beginning to end. The song was definitely different in feeling from the original, somehow more heartbreaking and raw, and Yuri was able to bring that across beautifully. The skirt flowed effortlessly around him as he moved giving his overall look this certain unique quality, this ambiguity and androgyny that Yuri seemed to still have even though he had worried he would lose it with age.

As the program progressed Otabek couldn’t help but feel like Yuri’s performance transcended from sport to art with ease, each of his moves working wonderfully with the music looking effortlessly and natural combining Yuri the skater and Yuri the dancer into one unbeatable, ever evolving monster.

A monster Otabek couldn’t help but love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't think I would get the chapter ready on time because I'm still sick but somehow I still managed to do it, though it's shorter than the previous two. Oops. If it somehow sucks I totally apologize, blame my illness and tiredness for it. Also I had a deadline to keep up with so just I'm a bit all over the place.
> 
> The woman, Tatiana, mentioned in the beginning of the chapter is real life Russian TV Commentator Tatiana Tarasova who used to be a competitive figure skater until an injury ended her career and she switched to being a coach (she's coached more world and Olympic champions than any other coach in history) and adviser for the Russian national figure skating team.
> 
> Anyway, here is the Johnny Weir performance I gave Yuri simply because I really like the idea of Yuri in that costume and doing that routine. I couldn't help myself because honesty Johnny is everything and I simply can't: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HMoNh7tIPtY
> 
> The next chapter will be a really fun one and will feature Yuri's favorite proud dad's again. ;)
> 
> So any thoughts? I greatly appreciate every comment and kudos you guys leave me. It truly helps me stay motivated and write more chapters, make them better each time. :)


	11. Make You Feel My Love (Age 19, Valentines Special)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title song: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0put0_a--Ng
> 
> not beta'd.

Yuri used to never care about Valentines Day because honestly it was nothing more than a gross overly commercialized social construct that made him gag. But then he fell in love with Otabek, became his boyfriend and everything changed. Sure enough Yuri still thought Valentines Day was stupid as fuck, but he hated it at least a little less.

What he did hate though was that Valentines was usually around the time of Four Continents which meant that, even if he wanted to not be alone that day, he had no way of doing something about it.

In the end Yuri stood alone and annoyed. Mila’s girlfriend Sara had flown to St. Petersburg to spend the week with her, Georgi retired the year before and was probably being gross with yet another new girlfriend—or crying because of Anya because he honestly needed therapy—and Yakov actually decided to take Lilia out to some fancy ass restaurant. Somehow those two were getting close again and it made being around them all the more awful.

Either way, simply because he wanted to collect some good boyfriend points, Yuri had made sure to place an order for hellishly expensive flowers to be delivered to Otabek’s hotel once he’d return from morning practice. Yuri knew he liked flowers and sappy shit so it seemed perfect. It would be more perfect if he could deliver that bouquet himself, but he’d used his one chance already to be there for Otabek’s birthday and Yakov wouldn’t let him go a second time. He understood that, he did even if Yakov had looked at him with a less than convinced expression on his face like he actually believed Yuri would put his relationship status above his fierce thirst for that gold medal at Worlds, but it still fucking sucked.

Sometimes Yuri did wish that Otabek could simply move to St. Petersburg so they could practice together and just be together more, but at the same time he also understood that Almaty was important to him. Maybe one day. Sure Yuri could consider moving to Almaty himself but Russia had way more opportunities and recourses so it didn’t really seem like a good idea career wise. Besides Yakov sure as hell wouldn’t come along so that wasn’t really an option to begin with.

Before he fell in love, Yuri never thought much about love, except when Victor practically forced him into because of the _Agape_ choreography. Mainly because he was too focused on skating to think of much else in general, but now that he knew what love felt like, especially romantic love, he was actually quite fond of it. He still wasn’t a fan of overly public declarations and basically pushing your relationship down other peoples throats, which was basically what Victor did for a living, but he could understand what all the fuss was about. Before he always thought romance was stupid and love not really necessary, that this whole idea of love changing you or making you stronger was complete bullshit because yeah fucking right, but now he could see that maybe there was some truth to it after all.

Having Otabek around had definitely made dealing with his breakdown easier because he had someone by his side, someone whom he could trust, and who cared about him deeply in a completely different way than Mila or the idiot couple. It was nice, very much so. He was also very aware of how having Otabek in his life, especially as his boyfriend, had changed him. He wasn’t so angry anymore, didn’t get irritated so easily and just managed to have his big mouth more under control. He still felt very tempted to call JJ an asshole at every opportunity he got but he tried to even keep that at a bare minimum.

Love was strange, easy as that.

After practice Yuri returned to Lilia’s and decided to spend the rest of the day ignoring that it was Valentines and just pretend it was any other day, nothing special at all. His plan was changed when a flower delivery guy showed up at the door with a fucking gorgeous bouquet of forget-me-nots along with some other small white flower Yuri didn’t know. That fucking sap, holy fucking shit.

Yuri was happy that Lilia wasn’t home and wouldn’t get to see the giant smile on his face and fondness in his eyes. He wasn’t much for flowers but even he couldn’t deny just how beautiful these ones were. How was Otabek doing this, just honestly fucking how? How could a single person be this perfect, special and wonderful, and still be real at the same time?

In one of Lilia’s cupboard Yuri found a glass vase, filled it with water and then placed the flowers inside. He carried them into his room and then just sat down on his bad and looked at them like a lovesick fool.

The door rang again and he swore if that was some sort of present or food he would board the next plane and hunt down Otabek not giving a shit what Yakov would say or do.

“Surprise,” two female voices Yuri knew way too well said as he opened the door. In front of him stood Mila and Sara with big smiles and hands filled with grocery bags, basically the last people Yuri expected to show up at his door.

“What are you doing here, you hags?” he asked slightly perplexed. Weren’t they supposed to be all gross and shit together at Mila’s doing things Yuri rather wouldn’t think about?

“A little bird told us you might be lonely tonight and asked us to keep you company,” Mila said and walked past him into the apartment with Sara at her heel. “We’ve brought lots of food and there is nothing you can say or do to make us leave.”

That’s it, Yuri would die at age nineteen because his boyfriend was too perfect and would give him a fucking heart attack with being too caring and sappy.

“I thought you’d want to spend tonight together since it’s Valentines and shit,” Yuri noted as he followed them into the kitchen.

“We have an entire week to be together,” Mila said and smiled at him again as she placed her grocery bags next to Sara’s on the counter. “Besides I don’t need some designated day to let Sara know I love her.” Mila put her arm around Sara’s waist and then kisser her cheek while Yuri groaned. This would be a very long evening.

“We thought we could make your favorite,” Sara said to which Yuri just raise a brow. “We all know how much you love pirozkhi.”

“You’re Italian, you have no clue how to make them,” Yuri said leaning against the counter. “Besides it’ll end up just like last time with me making them while you’ll make out next to the fridge.”

For some reason the rest of Team Russia had convinced Yuri to throw a small birthday party for Yakov months ago. It basically ended up being a fuck ton of work for Yuri, because somehow he was the best at cooking out of all of them, and a flat full of drunk Russians and empty vodka bottles. It was the first time Yuri had seen Lilia drunk which was more than a weird experience since it made her smile and laugh and friendly which didn’t suit her or the picture of her Yuri had in his mind.

“Come on, it will be fun,” Mila said and walked up to him pulling him into a hug. “Besides you and I are Russian, we know how this works.”

Of course Yuri gave in after a few more minutes of arguing because he realized that most of his arguments were bullshit anyway and he actually didn’t mind having them around. The prospect of eating pirozkhi made it all better, and the fact that they were here because Otabek had asked them to was quite something, too.

The kitchen quickly turned into a mess of flour and various other ingredients but they had fun, laughed and made little jokes while listening to the trashiest Russian disco music they could find. Even Yuri could see how happy Mila was with Sara around and, despite how much he always pretended to dislike Mila, he was happy that she’d found someone who made her smile and laugh just this much. Plus while Sara was around, Mila was occupied more often and thus had less of a mind to annoy the fuck out of him.

Despite Otabek not being there it was still a nice evening, one of the nicest Valentines Day’s Yuri’s had, though he promised himself that he’d spend it with Otabek next year come what may.

 

* * *

 

Once Mila and Sara left, Yuri wandered back into his room full and happy, and flopped down backward onto his bed. He unlocked his phone and absentmindedly scrolled through Instagram past pictures upon pictures of his fellow skaters and whatever it was they'd been up to for Valentines. Of course there was a disgustingly cheese picture posted by Victor showing him and Katsudon with the ocean in the background complete with a 40 page long essay as caption full of mushy lovey-dovey word vomit about his many feelings for his precious fucking husband.

Next came the picture Sara had taken of the three of them sitting on the sofa holding up their plates and smiling. Many of the comments were from people wondering how it was possible that Yuri didn’t have murder in his eyes as he interacted with them and the fact that he didn’t look like he’d been forced to be in the picture to begin win. Funny enough it’d been his idea.

Then of course there was JJ with his wife and their newborn daughter. Even though Yuri really wanted to hate the picture simply because it contained JJ, he actually double tapped it. They looked happy, even though Yuri felt almost sorry for that kid because she had that dickface as father. Maybe he’d finally learn to stop being such a egocentric asshole thanks to her. Yuri could only hope. Or maybe JJ would retire and thus be one less thing Yuri would have to worry about, though it’d be strange to not compete against him anymore.

Chris posted a picture with his boyfriend and a giant cake with his face on it along with some words in French. It was his birthday today. Chris' boyfriend held their really cute white fluffy cat so Yuri double tapped it even if just because of that. He didn't like Chris much but he also didn't hate him, unlike JJ.

Amongst all of that he also stumbled upon a picture posted by non other than Otabek, the least active social media user in all of history—he was even worse than that Seung-Gil guy who only posted a picture of his dog like once a month, if even. He posted a really artsy and pretty picture of the flowers Yuri had sent him. They looked nice, even better than on the website of the flower delivery service. The caption was simple but genuine: _missing the one I love_. Only Otabek would manage to be disgustingly, gag-inducing cheese and still make Yuri's heart skip a beat at the same time. Quickly he double tapped the picture and left a comment in form of heart emojis. Eloquent as all hell, wasn't he?

To show off he took a picture of his own flowers in a similar style as the picture Otabek had posted and uploaded it. It was the first time he posted flowers since he’d set up his account and it stuck out amongst his many selfies or pictures of Oxana or Otabek but he didn’t care, even if it messed with his aesthetic. The flowers were fucking gorgeous damn it!

Yuri closed the app and instead switched to check his emails, not that he expected to find anything exciting in there. Just as he was about to close that app a new message appeared.

“What the actual fuck?” Yuri said out loud to no one in particular as he read the subject line. Oxana raised her head, confused, and just stared at Yuri across the room before lowering her head again. Yuri smiled at her and then opened the message because honestly what the fuck even?

_From: Otabek Altin_

_For: Yuri Plisetsky_

_Subject: Valentine's Day Bathtub Playlist_

_I know what you think, but just go and do it. You won't regret it. I promise._

Attached was indeed an actual playlist. With a sigh Yuri got up and walked to the bathroom, locking the door behind him even if he was alone and Lilia wouldn’t return for a few more hours. As quickly as he could, because honestly curiosity was getting the best of him, he connected his phone to the portable speakers he left in the bathroom and opened the faucet to fill the bathtub. He could swear Lilia had some awesome smelling soap stuff somewhere that created a billion and a half bubbles which she'd gotten from someone for her birthday years ago but had barely used twice. If she didn’t want it, Yuri was all too eager to use it instead.

Sure enough he felt stupid, like he was part of some really low-budged cliché American romantic comedy but he didn't care. Beka had made a playlist just for him for Valentines, despite being busy as fuck, so he would have an open mind and cherish the gesture like a good boyfriend.

Sitting in the bathtub surrounded by music he never thought he'd listen to, more bubbles than he could ever count, and thinking about the boyfriend he thought he’d never have or deserve, Yuri felt impossibly loved. Even more as he reached the last song, which wasn’t even a song, but Otabek’s beautiful voice talking about Yuri, about his feelings for him and all the little things he loved about him and just how happy he was because of him.

There were actual tears pooling in Yuri’s eyes by the time the recording ended and his heart was aching in the best way possible. That boy would be the death of him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There you have it, a shitty little Valentines special chapter that so wasn't planned in any way but somehow I grew fond of the idea across the past hours and this happened. I hope this isn't too shitty, and I wish I'd have the playlist Otabek made Yuri but it would probably take me weeks to put together all the right songs.
> 
> Happy Valentines Day to all of you!
> 
> So any thoughts? I greatly appreciate every comment and kudos you guys leave me. It truly helps me stay motivated and write more chapters, make them better each time. :)


	12. Walk This Way (Age 20)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title song: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4B_UYYPb-Gk
> 
> Just so you know, I've never been at an ice show and the only things I've seem from them were all the Stephane Lambiel videos I could find on YouTube. I also have no idea how the behind the scenes action looks like so bare with me on this one, hah.
> 
> not beta'd.

After winning gold at the GPF, Yuri went on to win gold at Nationals and then at the European Championships with ease, as though he was merely competing against a bunch of kids despite the fact that Emil and Michele were putting up quite the fight. Otabek won gold at Four Continents for the second consecutive time warranting him a warm welcome upon his arrival back in Kazakhstan. Yuri was impossibly proud of him, of course, just like his family. Aisulu’s Instagram was flooded with pictures of Otabek from the competition, at the airport and at home in selfies with her. It was cute.

Yuuri and Victor posted pictures with Phichit, who took silver, after the medal ceremony and then also in Thailand since they’d probably invited themselves into his space. In some of the pictures Yuri could also see Seung-Gil making him wonder what he, of all people, was doing there. Yuri knew that Phichit, Leo and Guang-Hong were like the social media besties, but the Korean dude? Speaking of Leo, he’d managed to get bronze with a two-point advantage over Guang-Hong. They were lucky that JJ wasn’t there.

Worlds came around and Yuri continued his winning streak by getting gold, his season thus turning into a truly brilliant comeback, one he was very proud of. When asked he said he dedicated it to his grandpa, though he didn’t mention that this was his way of trying to make up for the losses and disappointments, the shame he’d brought upon their name the previous season. Sure that one silver he’d gotten annoyed the fuck out of him but gold at Worlds made it irrelevant. He was the world champion again despite everything that happened during the previous two seasons. He managed to fulfill his goal against all odds. Take that, Russia and the press, Yuri Plisetsky wasn’t just a loud-mouthed fraud, he could easily back up his words with actions, clearly.

Otabek joined him on the podium with silver around his neck and his hand on the small of Yuri’s back. It was subtle but it was more than enough. They were on top of the world and fuck did that feel amazing. The press started to call them the podium couple, and power couple on several other occasions, which was weird but Yuri was too happy to care.

When _Stars on Ice_ approached him and Otabek after Worlds, Yuri thought it was a good idea. Taking a break after _that_ season would be nice but _Stars on Ice_ wasn’t even in the same solar system when it came to stress and exhaustion performance wise. Besides they could be lazy and chill once they’d retire in a few years, until then skating was the center of Yuri’s world, his first love.

Participating basically meant showing off your artistry without any complicated jumps but with awesome music and chill choreographies, basically skating for the sake of entertainment and fun—for both the audience and the skaters—instead of almost dying on the ice in battle for a medal. What could go wrong? The worst that could happen was their director assigning Yuri some shitty song but that was something he could deal with, still own the shit out of it with ease because he was Yuri fucking Plisetsky, World Champion and SP and FS world record holder.

“You’re fucking kidding right?” Yuri growled in sheer disbelief because of course something even worse than that had to happen. After that dreadful email had come in, Yuri and Otabek moved over to the sofa in Lilia’s living room with Yuri’s laptop standing on the coffee table with Skype open in front of them. “Like you have to actually be fucking kidding me because this is outrageously stupid even for your low ass standards.”

“You know, this actually wasn’t my idea,” Victor said with a shit eating grin on his face that frankly Yuri felt much too tempted to smash into the nearest wall, preferably repeatedly. But seeing as Victor was halfway across the globe he was safe, for now.

“I won’t do it.” Yuri crossed his arms in front of his chest. “’Battle of the Ships’ the fuck is that even supposed to mean?”

Maybe he was overreacting just a little bit, but seriously who came up with that fucking idea? In the beginning when they’d agreed, the director was all cheers and happiness telling them that they had an amazing plan. Yuri had been curious and looked forward to hearing it, until the director pulled out his plan, presented it to them in that fucking email and Yuri was ready to die. Ice show his ass.

“I’m sure it’ll be fun,” Katsudon offered with that friendly smile on his face he usually used to try and defuse a heated situation. He would need way more than that to defuse this situation.

“I’m pretty sure we have very different ideas of what ‘fun’ is,” Yuri pointed out and slumped back on the sofa. Next to him Otabek moved his hand and lightly placed it on Yuri’s thigh, which Yuri knew was his attempt at calming him down. Hell he wasn’t actually mad, at least not quite as much as it seemed, he just really thought it was a dumb idea.

“Come on, Yura, what’s the worst that can happen?” Otabek asked quietly, his words accompanied by a light squeeze of Yuri’s thigh. “It’s nothing more than the four of us on the same ice, no big deal.”

“Everything, literally,” Yuri groaned. “I mean should Victor even be still allowed on the ice? Ain’t you a bit too old for that? What if you, like, break your hip or something?”

“I’m only 32!” Victor protested looking seriously offended even though it certainly wasn’t the first time Yuri called him out as being old. It came to him like second nature, easy as pirozhki. “Evgeni Plushenko participated in the Olympics at 32 so I am certainly not old.”

“But only in the team section, plus he was better than you, just saying.” That probably wasn’t true, but Plushenko had skated longer than Victor so Yuri didn’t care. Seeing that expression on Victor’s face, his mouth slightly open and his eyes wide, was so worth it. He could be so easy to tease yet he always called out Yuri for the exact same thing. At least Yuri knew that used to be the case. At age twenty he had his emotions much better under control than he used to, well, at least most of the time.

In the end Yuri gave in and agreed to do it, but not because he’d changed his mind, hell to the fuck no, but rather because he really wanted to buy those gorgeous designer cheetah print pants he’d seen in a store recently. Plus he planned on moving out of Lilia’s this summer so if he wanted to rent the place he’d stumbled upon a few nights ago online, he needed cash and that ice show was the perfect way to do it. Damn the geezer and his piggy, and damn the director for assigning them this stupid program.

A little over a week later Yuri and Otabek boarded the plane to fly out for practice, fitting and generally preparing for the show. The choreographer that had been assigned to them had sent over a couple of layouts and plans for how their part of the choreography would look like. None of it was too complex and learning it probably wouldn’t take much time. Hell he’d learned _Agape_ within a week so some shitty ice show program couldn’t possibly be harder than that. Though suspiciously enough the places where lifts were supposed to be, the choreographer had left empty spaces as though that was supposed to be some kind of surprise or something. Asshole.

“Yurio! Otabek!” Victor fucking annoying cheerful voice exclaimed as they walked into the rink two days later. The ice itself was crowded with skaters from all across the globe dotted with a few familiar faces and a sea of people Yuri had never seen in his life before. Or maybe he’d seen them but none of them were special enough to leave a trace.

For once Yuri tried his best not to yell at Victor, not because he cared about Victor’s feelings all of a sudden, but rather because he didn’t want his first impression on the other skaters to be him furiously yelling profanities in Russian. He still wasn’t used to caring about things like that. Five years ago he would’ve screamed up a storm and not given a single fuck. Fucking hell love was making him soft and weird. _Great_.

After introductions—Yuri thought going around in a circle saying your name and nationality and shit was something you left behind once you moved out of kindergarten or primary school or shit—and a profoundly way too friendly welcome speech by the director the skaters were asked to split up into groups depending on to which choreographer they belonged. Yuri dreaded having to spend a fuck ton too much time with the geezer and Katsudon, even though deep down he actually kind of enjoyed their company, but he was curious how their piece of the choreography fit in with theirs and what their fucking music was since no one wanted to give him that information so far.

Finally Yuri could put a face to the name. Their choreographer was some dude in his fifties, or maybe a bit older or younger, who the fuck knew, with buzz cut black hair and mud brown eyes, a forgettable face and the chubby body of someone who used to be someone but wasn’t anymore. His name was Gary Crossan.

Hold the fuck up. Yuri knew the guy, though knew was probably too strong of a descriptor. He’d talked to him on the plane on his way back from the US after Otabek’s birthday. What were the fucking odds of that? He wondered if he realized that too or if Yuri hadn’t left a memorable enough impression on him that day that he didn’t connect the dots. Then again, he didn’t really fucking care.

“So the fuck is ‘battle of the ships’ supposed to be?” Yuri felt tempted to add an ‘asshole’ to the end of that question but didn’t. Where all that self-control was coming from was definitely beyond him, but give it a few more hours and it’d probably start running very thin.

“Basically the idea the director and I had,” dude began. “Was that we could create a sort of story with your two choreographies, make it something like a battle of the generations type of thing.”

Yuri wanted to burst out with laughter. Guess he wasn’t the only one who considered Victor an old fucking geezer after all. Maybe he wouldn’t hate Gary as much as he thought.

“You know, we’re not actually _that_ old,” Victor said with that fake press smile on his face that he perfected across his career that everybody considered natural and pretty but Yuri knew better.

“Of course not, that isn’t what I was trying to say by that,” Gary said looking like he was on the verge of a heart attack. The horror, possibly offending the one and only Victor fucking-extra Katsuki-Nikiforov, what a fucking shame that would be.

He wondered how long it would take for Gary to realize that Victor was anything but intimidating, that he was more like a overgrown puppy in human form, embarrassing and stupid as shit while also impossibly obsessed with his husband. Said husband was practically glued to his side as though putting any sort of space between their bodies would disrupt the order of the universe or cause them actual, physical pain. Even though Yuri considered himself an occasionally clingy person, even he didn’t stick to Otabek like that. Neither of them was that big on overly big PDA besides maybe holding hands as they walked somewhere or Otabek’s hand on Yuri’s lower back or around his waist as they posed for pictures.

Yuri much preferred showing his love to Otabek in more private manners shared just between the two of them in quiet moments at home or alone at the rink or whatever. Yuri liked the fact that people knew they belonged to each other, and his Instagram increasingly showed more pictures of them together in various poses, arms thrown over each other shoulders, the occasional kiss on the cheek or alike, but pushing their love down everyone’s throat was still something he much preferred to leave to the idiot couple.

“Anyway, basically we imagined it as the four of you living in two apartments next to each other,” Gary continued, swiftly moving into territory he was more familiar with. “On one side we would have you, Nikiforov and Katsuki, as the more relaxed adults who just want to spend some peaceful downtime. On the other side we would have Plisetsky and Altin who are like the younger generation prone to listening to loud music and not caring about disturbing their neighbors and such. As the music progresses we thought you could basically battle it out who was in the right and like the better ship or something along those lines. The audience will surely like it, just like your fans.”

Even with an explanation to all the pieces they’d gotten before, Yuri still felt like this was a fucking stupid idea. Who would even question who was the better ship since it was obviously him and Otabek, duh.

“The music we’ve chosen for your segment is ‘Walk This Way’ by Run D.M.C feat. Aerosmith,” Gary added. Finally they were getting somewhere! Yuri knew that song, even liked it, so he was definitely surprised and pleased. He’d been worried that they would hand them some really shitty pop song by like Ellie Goulding or Taylor Swift or some shit like that, which would’ve been reason enough for actually Yuri to leave and not come back.

Their day ended with a lazy run through both their choreographies so Gary could get a feeling for how far they were and what needed work, as well as him showing them the part of the choreography they ‘shared’. The part Victor and Katsudon had was slower, calmer, and fit them quite well reminding Yuri a bit of their pair skate from five years ago at the GPF. Somehow the geezer actually managed to haul up Katsudon’s ass in the air for basic lifts and it all looked actually kind of good, not that Yuri would tell them so.

The next day Yuri and Otabek were supposed to show up two hours earlier for practice alone with Gary. Their own choreography also contained very basic elements from ice dance, which they needed to be properly introduced to, supposedly. They were numerous golden medalists, how fucking complicated could any of that really be?

“Aren’t you that guy from the flight last year, the one who watched figure skating?” Gary asked as Yuri and Otabek were putting on their skates. So he did remember after all. “That would mean that you’re his boyfriend, right?”

“Yes,” Otabek said and looked up at the guy, proper manners and all that crap.

“I’d been convinced you were just joking when you said you were Yuri Plisetsky, along with dating Otabek Altin,” Gary continued. “My daughter didn’t believe a word, but then she saw you on Instagram and came around to apologize. That was nice. She was quite excited when I told her that I would work with the two of you this time.”

There he went again with his stories that Yuri still didn’t care about. What about his face made the guy feel convinced that small talk was the way to go?

“She’s quite the fan of yours, Mr. Altin,” Gary added to top it all off. Then again, Yuri could understand. He was quite the fan, too.

“Otabek is fine,” he said while taking off his blade guards. “Also I’m happy to hear that. Please thank her for her support.”

That was so Otabek, formal and mannered and well spoken. Basically everything Yuri wasn’t especially when confronted by strangers, even if they were fans or supporters of his. Hell, each time he saw one of his fucking Angels he felt the need to run the other way as quickly as he could. Then again Otabek’s fans were much more civilized and calmer than his rapid Angels.

Gary brought in two ice dancers, who were also part of the show, and asked them to demonstrate the moves they needed to learn. The hardest element of all of them was probably that really weird lunge and Biellmann position figure thing that looked nice but would probably be nothing but a fucking pain in the ass to learn. Doing spirals, camel spins or crossovers together, easy, no problem, they’d done that just for fun across the years, but that lift thing, Yuri already didn’t like it. But he wasn’t the type of person to say no to a challenge.

Balancing himself in the Biellmann position was easy, off and on the ice, in motion and standing still thanks to Lilia’s endless ballet lessons, yet the idea of doing it while standing on Otabek’s skate whilst they were moving seemed mildly terrifying and definitely required a fuck ton of trust.

“Don’t drop me,” Yuri growled while they were ready to try it. They’d watched the ice dancers do it at least ten times, listened to their detailed explanations and tried to do it off the ice while standing still. It couldn’t be that fucking hard if those assholes could do it with stupid fucking smiles on their faces.

“I’ll try my best,” Otabek said and sounded semi-convincingly as he did.

And then he proceeded to drop him, though it was more Yuri’s fault than Otabek’s. He’d hesitated and seemed unable to properly balance his weight and made them tip over. But, as for a first try it hadn’t been that bad, at least according to the smiling asshole duo.

They picked each other off of the ice and tried again, and then again, and again until Yuri was sure he would have an ugly bruise on his right hip and ass cheek.

Later on they watched the idiot couple go through their routine under Gary’s watchful eyes along with a presentation from the ice assholes of some lift they were supposed to do. It was even easier than theirs, which made sense considering those idiots weren’t competitive anymore.

Somewhere around day four Yuri was actually starting to have fun, which was the oddest realization ever. He was really getting into the music and his choreography with Otabek, pretend fighting with the idiot couple and slowly getting better at doing the lift. It wasn’t as bad as he thought it would be.

“Yuuri, I think I might be dreaming because Yuri appears to be smiling,” Victor said cheerfully as they watched them practice the lift.

“He really is smiling,” Katsudon agreed.

Yuri was this close to loosing his concentration and falling on his ass, again. But, Otabek the saint that he was, sensed it and managed to pull his attention from the idiots back to him. They moved out of the lift and then Otabek put his arms around Yuri’s back and practically lifted him off the ice earning a fucking embarrassing little squeal from Yuri. He threw his arms around Otabek’s neck and wrapped his legs around his waist holding on to dear life as they began to spin and Yuri was very sure they were about to actually die this time. This so wasn’t part of the choreography in any way but, as he relaxed into it, it was actually kind of fun.

Yuri never would’ve thought he’d be able to trust another person enough to do something like this. Than again, it was Beka so he didn’t have to be afraid of anything. He wouldn't hurt him.

Somewhere along the way Yuri felt brave enough to lean back and actually kiss Otabek, even if he feared that that would be the distraction that would land them on the ice. For just a moment he ignored the fact that they weren’t alone at the rink, that the idiot couple was watching them—he could slit their throats if they would film them or something—as well as some of the other skaters who were practicing on the other end of the rink. For just that moment all of that didn’t matter. What did matter was the kiss he shared with Otabek, light and soft, close mouthed, but strangely perfect.

If the rest of their lives would be made up of moments like this filled with happiness, unguarded emotions, love and that exciting tingling of desire, Yuri was all for it and couldn’t wait to experience it all.

Next up on their agenda was the costume fitting. It was crazy and definitely unorganized; a big ass room filled with all the skaters along with the director, his assistants and the people responsible for the costumes. Two simple metal racks stood next to each other, one saying Plisetsky/Altin the other Katsuki-Nikiforov. Upon closer look they could’ve easily saved the paper because the choices couldn’t possibly have been more different in style.

The idiot couple basically had a couple of different variations of dress shirts and alike along with simple black pants, nothing flashy, rather elegant and subdued. It definitely fit with the bullshit Gary had told them about what their segment was supposedly telling story wise. On the other hand Yuri and Otabek had a variety of different colored shirts, pants, leg warmers, belts, chains and other accessories to choose from.

“Looks like someone had a field day at _Hot Topic_ ,” Victor snickered looking over at Yuri and Otabek. “Or they somehow managed to sneak a peak into Yurio’s closet.”

“Shut up, geezer!” Yuri said, annoyed. “You’re just jealous that we get to wear something exciting while you’ll look boring and bland, asshole.”

Yuri could practically hear Lilia reprimanding him for using such unattractive words at this volume across the ocean. Throughout the past years she tried her best to make him drop his foul language, which basically motivated Yuri into only using it more to piss her off, though he rarely directed any of it at her. She was scary as all hell but he simply couldn’t help himself. Plus Victor was practically asking for it.

“Excuse you, they will look great,” a familiar voice said. All four of them turned almost in perfect unison as a smiling Phichit walked up to them having seemingly appeared out of fucking nowhere. The fuck was he doing here? He wasn’t among the skaters so what the fuck?

“Phichit-kun?” Katsudon said, surprised. “What are you doing here?”

“Remember that ice show I told you about, the one I want to make in Thailand?” Katsudon nodded. “Part of making it happen is coming up with the costume designs, and learning how all of that works, so what better place to learn something from than actual costume designers at work, right? _Stars on Ice_ was willing to take me in so I kind of designed your choices.”

Yuri had not expected that, and it seemed like Katsudon hadn’t either because his jaw nearly dropped onto the floor. And what was that about an ice show in Thailand? Yuri dearly hoped no one would come up and ask him to participate because he sure as hell wouldn’t. _Stars on Ice_ was one thing, an established thing, but Phichit’s crazy train on ice? Sure the fuck not.

Phichit walked up to the idiot couple’s costume rack and jumped straight into the most animated explanation of the ideas behind each one Yuri had ever heard, but he quickly tuned out because frankly he didn’t care much. What he did care about was picking out his own costume and getting it to match Otabek’s despite their quite different tastes in clothes.

In the end Otabek chose slightly ripped black jeans with a chain hanging along his left hip matched with a light gray _Ramones_ shirt. It was simple but damn he looked hot and badass in it. Yuri went with something unsurprisingly flashier because he simply couldn’t help himself. A yellow and gray baseball tee with the _Blink-182_ logo on the front with thick black leggings—he wanted to pick jeans but those probably wouldn’t give him enough room to get his leg up in his Biellmann—with cheetah print leg warmers simply because he could. He also picked out a pair of black fingerless gloves to protect his hand from potentially being sliced open while he held on to the blade of his skate.

Looking into the mirror leaning against the closest wall Yuri couldn’t help but smile. They looked fucking amazing, way better than the idiot couple or any of the other skaters. They also stuck out more but Yuri didn’t mind. Their part was something like the grand finale of the show, the most important part in Yuri’s opinion, so of course they had to look the fucking best. He wouldn’t go for any less than that. He had a reputation to maintain after all.

“Smile,” Phichit said as he pointed a big DSLR camera at them. Yuri scowled back instead. “It’s not for me. It’s for the director and the costume department so they’ll know who wears what and so on.”

During practice the next day they were supposed to show up in costume to see if everything fit properly during the performance or if anything was causing trouble. On the sidelines waiting for their queue, Yuri watched the idiot couple in their white, ocean blue and black costumes gracefully go through their routine while looking at each other like the fucking lovesick dickheads they were. They looked decent together, Yuri could admit as much, but they were still gross, damn it, with their PDA and mutual endless swooning.

In the evening Yuri received a text from Phichit—how the fuck did he even have his damn number—containing nothing but a single picture. It showed Yuri and Otabek in their lift skating across the ice with Yuri’s arm around Otabek’s neck, their faces close together and Otabek’s free hand resting on his jaw. He would fucking murder that Thai asshole. They’d done that particular variation of the lift all the way at the end after practically everyone was gone already and they’d been sure they were alone, or that at least everyone who was still present didn’t pay any sort of attention to them.

Even though his first instinct was to send Phichit a beautiful example of just how colorful his vocabulary was, he went with his second one instead. He saved the picture, switched to Instagram and posted it.

Opening night went surprisingly smoothing, despite or because the final rehearsal had been pretty much a complete disaster. The audience went completely nuts over their segment, especially when both couples were on the ice at the same time, interacting and showing off their moves.

Yuri had been prepared to hate all of it, to suffer his way through the entire process, but in the end it had been way more fun than he thought it would be. He even smiled as they went back onto the ice to take a bow with a similar expression to be found on Otabek’s face. Yuri was happy he got to experience this with him by his side as his best friend, partner in crime, and above all, his smoking hot boyfriend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, thank you to everyone who left such amazing and detailed comments on the last two chapters. It honestly means the world to me to hear your thoughts and excitement over this story because I never expected such positive reactions. THANK YOU!
> 
> So there we have it, Victuuri and Otayuri on the same ice. Had a fun time trying to explain my "sudden interest in ice dance" to my friend without mentioning that it was research for this chapter (and something else). Phichit was kind of a last minute addition as I was writing this. Originally he wasn't part of my outline but then I remembered "Phichit On Ice" and thought this would be a good way to bring it up. 
> 
> The outfits our boys are wearing are inspired by this piece of art I saw on tumblr: http://shiokishuji.tumblr.com/post/156988596067/otayuri-is-a-bit-more-acrobatic-and-energetic-you  
> Fun fact: I chose the ice dance pose, described it and wrote the chapter before I pulled up the art to check the outfits the artist chose and coincidentally Yuri and Otabek were doing the exact pose in the drawing that I had described. Funny.
> 
> All right, tiny heads up for the next chapter coming Sunday: there will be smut, like actual smut smut. Of course not the entire chapter because I definitely wouldn't be able to pull off 5k words of smut, but possibly like half the chapter. If you don't like smut, don't worry you'll still be able to read the chapter you'll just have to skip the second half. The important stuff will be in the first half so you wouldn't miss out on anything. Anyway, just wanted to let you guys know. I'm so nervous I cannot even. I'll probably die until Sunday remembering that smut and the fact that you guys will read it. AAAAh.
> 
> So any thoughts? I greatly appreciate every comment and kudos you guys leave me. It truly helps me stay motivated and write more chapters, make them better each time. :)


	13. Breathe On Me (Age 20)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title song: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OcoGD42a4ds
> 
> Disclaimer: As mentioned at the end of the previous chapter, this one contains smut. You can still enjoy this chapter even if you don't want to read the smut. Just read the first half of the chapter until the POV changes to Yuri and stop there. Also I know the song only fits about 60% of the chapter but there was no way to find one that'd fit the entire thing. Anyway!  
> Enjoy!!
> 
> not beta'd.

Just like he planned, Yuri actually put his plan of moving out of Lilia’s into reality. For a few weeks he kept on sending Otabek links to different websites showing off different apartments up for rent, some at reasonable prices but quite a distance away from the rink, others closer but stupidly expensive. For a while it seemed like staying at Lilia’s for a little while longer would probably the better option but once Yuri had decided on something, Otabek knew, it was hardly possible to talk him out of it.

It’d been years since Otabek moved into his apartment, and it hadn’t even been him who’d chosen and furnished it, so it was kind of exciting to do this with Yuri. The final decision would be up to Yuri and Yuri alone, but still, it was nice that he took his opinion into consideration.

“I’ve finally done it,” Yuri said looking excited and happy, a big smile on his face. Otabek couldn’t help but notice that the shirt Yuri wore used to be his. He thought he’d lost it at a hotel or something but apparently not. It suited Yuri even if it was a bit too large for him.

“Done what?” Otabek asked before adjusting the pillow behind his head.

As answer Yuri reached for something and then held it up in front of his camera. Two silver keys hung off of his finger. “I signed the contract. The place will officially be mine on the first!”

“Which one did you decide on?” Yuri had three apartments that he’d been in love with but struggled to decide on, each great in its own way even though the prices were a bit much. Then again, looking at all the sponsors and possibilities Yuri had in Russia, it didn’t surprise Otabek that he could look at things much more expensive than what Otabek could consider.

“You’ll have to come and see,” Yuri teased and wiggled his eyebrows.

Somehow Yuri managed to talk Otabek into flying in on the first so he could help Yuri move in like a proper boyfriend would. Hearing that argument he’d laughed but agreed without any further argument. He wanted to help, plus he was curious about the place so it was checking off two points with one flight.

Yuri’s new apartment was located on the sixth floor of some old looking building, the façade covered in fancy sandstone ornaments and details, the windows looking old but the paint on their frames white and relatively new looking. A heavy dark wooden door lead inside and toward the large stone and wood staircase and fancy metal elevator. Considering they’d have to carry boxed and furniture up onto the sixth floor Otabek was thankful for that elevator, even though it seemed old and made awful sounds as it moved upward painfully slow.

“Welcome home,” Yuri said as he unlocked the door and pushed it open.

Whatever this apartment was it definitely wasn’t one of the final three Yuri had on his list. It offered wide spaces, beautiful light wooden parquet flooring, flawlessly white walls, big windows that looked definitely newer than those outside. A couple of boxes already stood around but not nearly all of them. There was also a very apparent lack of furniture in every room. The living room was just as empty as the bedroom and the spare room; the kitchen just offered a stove, sink and fridge, and both bathrooms nothing but the essentials.

“I saw the advert for this place as I was getting something to eat and I just couldn’t say no,” Yuri explained while standing in the middle of what would be the living room. “I mean just look at it, isn’t it perfect?”

“Looks expensive,” Otabek said quietly. There was no denying it. The apartment was big and looked like it’d been renovated recently, the location was great, just a couple of streets away from the rink.

“It was fucking expensive, until I brought up what I do and that I happen to know Lilia.” Yuri turned on his heel than and looked back at Otabek with a small smirk. “Turns out the owner’s wife was like a fan of hers or something like that, or maybe a former student, I don’t know. Either way they offered me a few percent off, not like significantly less but still. Thanks to _Stars on Ice_ and that other thing two months ago it’s okay.”

After that Yuri jumped into an explanation of his plan for the place, how he wanted to decorate it, how it was supposed to look like once it’d be furnished and how he wanted to transform the spare room into his own studio so he theoretically wouldn’t have to run to Lilia’s every time he wanted to get some ballet practice in.

The entire time as Yuri spoke, Otabek watched and listened attentively. He could see just how happy Yuri was because of this, because he was able to afford this for himself and how much to meant to him, his first apartment, one he could pay for by himself without any help just purely thanks to all the hard work he’d put into his skating for years, over a decade. His eyes seemed to sparkle and that beautiful smile never left his lips while he dragged Otabek from room to room, never letting go of his hand.

So when Yuri asked him to accompany him on his trip to IKEA, Otabek all too willingly agree. Looking at all the designer clothes hanging in Yuri’s closet he was a little surprised that he didn’t insist on designer furniture, to which Yuri simply explained that no one would see his furniture so buying overpriced designer crap wasn’t worth it.

It was very clear that Yuri had a plan, that he more or less knew what he wanted, but boy did he get distracted easily by each and every display they had. It was entertaining to say the least. Otabek was surprised that Yuri seemed strangely oblivious to all the people around them, the running and screaming kids, the occasional stares directed at him caused by either his fame or good looks—possibly a combination of both.

The only time Otabek had seen Yuri this excited about anything, besides the usual, had been at an animal park years ago in Berlin on their first proper date when they’d reached the tiger enclosure and Yuri had lost his mind.

As they slowly made their way through the first section containing all the example living rooms Yuri insisted on sitting down in each and every one of them wondering if this sofa or that other one would look better in “our apartment”. Otabek would be lying if he’d claim that hearing Yuri call it that didn’t make his heart flutter at least a little. It sounded so naturally, rolled off his tongue without a second thought. He didn’t question it and instead watched as Yuri wrote down the number of whichever sofa he’d just decided on. Otabek had been too caught up in his thoughts to register which one it was.

He was just so in love with him.

Next up was the bedroom section. Yuri walked past the single bedrooms and stopped in front of a generously cut studio apartment type bedroom held mostly in light pale colors. The bed was the only dark piece, black and gigantic. Without a care in the world Yuri advanced toward it, jumped and turned mid air before landing on the bed right in the middle.

“Beka, come here,” he said and reached out his hand toward him. Ignoring all the people walking past them looking almost confused by their display, the fact that they were just lying around on the display pieces like they were at home and alone. “This is the one, right?”

The mattress was soft, the bed just the right height to not be a pain to get in and out, the design nothing overly complex but also not super plain. He squeezed Yuri’s hand in agreement. A moment later Yuri rolled over to pull up the tags hanging off of the headboard and wrote down the numbers on his paper.

Just as Otabek was about to get off of the bed Yuri lightly hit the back of his head with a soft pillow. Slowly he turned his head to look at him just to find Yuri trying his hardest to stifle a laugh and pretending he hadn’t done anything. Before he could change his mind Otabek reached for the pillow closest to him, a small white throw pillow, and smacked it against Yuri’s chest.

Yakov deemed Otabek the responsible one for years but in that moment he was all too willing to give up his title because even he couldn’t say no to some innocent fun. After a short while both their hair was nothing but fuzzy messes sticking out of their previously neatly looking buns and ponytails and their cheeks coated by a light blush.

Their fun ended once some mean looking woman with angry eyebrows and designer clothes told them to behave since they weren’t alone. Somehow her comment only made them both burst out with laughter. Usually Otabek had never been this open with his emotions, mainly just stuck to a stoic expression and few words, especially in public, but somehow Yuri brought out a completely different side of him. He couldn’t say that he minded.

Before they could get into actual trouble they moved on to the kitchen section where Yuri decided to fawn over one held in black and white, wood and silver metal, modern and sleek. Luckily none of the kitchens offered any sort of animal print because Otabek was almost sure that Yuri would’ve gone straight for that no matter how tacky it’d look like.

Once they were done with their slow round upstairs they moved downstairs. They ignored the miscellaneous small decorative items and went straight for the warehouse part to find all the pieces of furniture that could be found there before they’d move on to ordering the rest.

Yuri pulled out one of the carts, jumped onto it standing on it like a captain on deck of his ship and called out directions. Simply because it looked way too funny, Otabek quickly pulled out his phone to take a picture to post on Instagram, and then decided to play along and pushed the cart while Yuri tried his hardest not to fall off of it. After all those years of ballet and skating you’d think he’d have no problem with keeping his balance.

“So, when will all of this be delivered?” Yuri asked about an hour later. The middle-aged guy behind the counter checked his monitor, typed in something and clicked around.

“Tomorrow between twelve and three,” he finally said. “Please look over the order once more, make sure everything is listed correctly, and then sign at the bottom, Mr. Plisetsky.”

Ten minutes later everything was done and they got into their taxi back to Lilia’s. The sun had set while they’d been inside. Otabek felt exhausted, more than after practice, probably due to all the slow walking and trying his best not to bump into every person he passed, but it’d still been kind of fun.

“You’ve called it ‘our apartment’,” he said at some point while looking out of the window.

“Did I?” Yuri asked sounding unconvincingly surprised. So he’d done it on purpose, completely aware, deliberately. “Do you mind it?”

“No,” he said, truthfully, and finally looked at Yuri. He looked almost shy, a light blush on his cheeks and a ghost of a smile resting on his lips.

Otabek took Yuri’s hand and tugged him a little closer, close enough to kiss him. It wasn’t a deep kiss, nothing but a brief touch of lips though it was more than enough to make him feel a little drunk. One more night and then they would be able to do whatever they wanted without having to worry about Lilia hearing them.

The next day the delivery arrived first thing at twelve in a giant truck blocking half the road and thus very successfully pissing off everyone who wanted to drive along it, or even walk down the sidewalk. Unfortunately there was nothing they could do about it. Even though there were seven delivery guys, each of them insisting that they didn’t need their help, it still took them around an hour to carry everything upstairs. The final result was boxes and random pieces of furniture littering most of the floor in the living room as well as the spare room, a few boxes in the kitchen and also the bedroom, though the latter had been spared the most.

Watching Yuri get gradually more pissed off at ‘stupid and fucking unclear’ instructions was kind of hilarious. Of course they didn’t even attempt assembling all of it in one go because that would probably take hours upon hours, so they tried to get down the essentials first, like the dinner table and chairs, the wardrobe and dresser with a round mirror on it, a small shelf for the en suit bathroom.

By the time they reached the bed they worked out something like a workflow that didn’t even require any communication anymore. One of Yuri’s playlists softly—as softly as some metal band could be—played in the background.

Yuri decided that he wanted the bed to stand against the wall opposite to the door leading into the room and the second one leading into the en suit. Two relatively big windows decorated the wall to the left off of the bed. The dresser stood between them while the wardrobe, currently only holding their jackets hanging off of thin metal hangers, stood against the opposite wall.

Once they were done assembling and dressing the bed—gray pillows of various sizes, black mattress cover and black and gray cheetah print blankets—they looked at each other and smiled satisfied with their work. There was still a lot more to do but this felt beautifully domestic and fuck did Otabek enjoy every second of it. One day they’d share an apartment like this, call it their home, their names together on the doorbell.

Was this how the rest of their lives would feel like?

Otabek groaned as his phone started to ring loudly. Of course Aisulu would have the world’s least stellar timing imaginable. Quickly he excused himself and wandered over into the living room and toward the window, his eyes wandering over the St. Petersburg skyline as he listened to Aisulu telling him about something or another. He loved his sister with all his heart but right now there were about a million other things on his mind, each of them involving Yuri, that he’d much rather focus on than his sister’s voice.

But the good brother that he was, he listened carefully, responded when required to while adding a few bits and bobs about his day and their IKEA adventures, before Aisulu seemed satisfied and hug up.

Wandering back toward the bedroom Otabek found a piece of paper stuck to the door with a tiny piece of clear duck tape saying nothing but ‘sit down’. What was Yuri planning? Was this the moment he would turn out to be a psychotic killer and skin him alive? He almost wanted to laugh at that thought because it was utterly ridiculous.

He followed the instructions and sat down on the foot end of the bed facing the door into the hallway and the en suit bathroom. Only now did he notice that the lights were dimmed and the little green light on Yuri’s portable speakers was turned back on. What was he planning?

Moments later the bathroom door slowly opened. Otabek looked up to find Yuri leaning against the doorframe in a definitely deliberately sexy post wearing nothing but Otabek’s Team Kazakhstan jacket, black Calvin Klein boxer briefs, black nylon stockings and those red soled high heels that had been featured in more than one of Otabek’s fantasies across the years, though he’d never had the guts to tell Yuri about it. He wanted to tell Yuri how amazing he looked but found himself at a loss for worlds as all his blood traveled south.

Otabek could see Yuri move his hand and a second later music began to play, a song he’d never heard before but immediately knew was setting the mood to a very certain one. _Holy shit._

Perfectly in sync with the beat Yuri began to move, his hips swaying back and forth before he turned around his axis and then walked a few steps toward him, each step taken with precision, slowly, with his eyes never leaving Otabek. Then he stopped again and slowly sank toward the floor, his legs apart before he moved into more perfectly timed moves across the floor, effortless and sensual, sexy and lustful. Otabek swore the room had just gotten hotter.

Yuri was a brilliant dancer but never had Otabek seen him dance quite like this, especially in high heels that somehow only added to the gracefulness with which Yuri moved no matter how crazy that sounded, his moves alternating between impossibly quick ones, hands and legs changing positions almost in a blur, and then switching to deliberately slow ones.

It was captivating, sensual, exciting, beautiful, and felt like watching porn happening right in front of him, if porn were classy and breathtakingly beautiful like Yuri. It was erotic and sexy, more than anything he’d ever seen, but without that nagging feeling of someone trying to hard. It seemed to come to Yuri without much thought, like he was just born with this natural ability to drive Otabek crazy without even having to try too hard, just by being amazing at something everybody knew he excelled at. He was absolutely stunning and slowly rendering Otabek so speechless he doubted he would be able to say a single word any time soon.

Had Yuri actually planned all that? Created a choreography and practiced it somehow, somewhere, at some point? Or was he simply improvising? It totally didn’t matter. In theory he could just roll around on the floor or sway his hips for three minutes nonstop and Otabek would be just as turned on, though this performance was definitely something else, something just for him. No one but him knew this side of Yuri, like a dirty little secret just between them, one Otabek was all too eager to keep forever.

How was he just this damn lucky?

At some point Yuri slowly, so painfully slowly, crossed the distance between them while the music faded into nothing more than quiet background noise before it disappeared completely. His eyes were hooded in that dark and definitely bedroom eyes look that Yuri knew brought Otabek to his knees every time, figuratively and literally.

 

* * *

 

While dance came to Yuri like second nature, putting on a show like that had required way more bravery than he’d expect after being in a relationship for over two years. But seeing that expression on Otabek’s face, his eyes growing big, his lips parting in surprise, awe and lust, and his cheeks lightly flushed, it had been so damn worth it.

Yuri liked to surprise Otabek sometimes, show that he was willing to work on their relationship, add some effort of his own to it, make it exciting, and this had been the outcome of some half delirious thought process a while back when he couldn’t fall asleep. He’d been tired after practice and let his mind wander and somehow this had come to his mind. Why waste perfectly good talent and not just try it? The worst that could happen would be Otabek thinking that he was being ridiculous, laugh at him for a moment and then still have sex with him, so really, it was a win/win situation either way.

He’d never danced for Otabek, at least not like this, and fuck was it thrilling. Choosing a song and coming up with the moves had been tricky but damn was it worth it. Finding the courage to step out of that bathroom wearing that outfit had been the hardest part of it all because how do you even explain that? Then again those heels and stockings made his legs look great so fuck it.

“I thought we could test out if that bed was worth its price,” Yuri said, nothing more than a tiny step away from Otabek, his hands finding their way onto the sides of his face while gazing into his beautiful eyes.

Slowly Yuri leaned forward and kissed him, at first nothing more than a light touch of lips, close mouthed and innocent, but then melted into something fiercer, more demanding. Before he would loose himself completely, Yuri pulled back, his hands wandering from Otabek’s jaw down his neck and onto his shoulders. With just a little bit of force Yuri pushed his shoulders so Otabek fell back onto the bed looking a bit surprised.

Taking over control felt exhilarating and exciting, different, like diving into unchartered territory. Sure they’d switched leads in the bedroom numerous times depending on the mood and a million other things, yet this still felt different. This was Otabek completely giving in to whatever Yuri had in mind, watching, waiting, reacting in all the best ways with little gasps and moans.

Yuri moved onto the bed effectively straddling Otabek, easily feeling his erection beneath him, a satisfied smile hushing across Yuri’s lips. This was going better than he anticipated it would.

Slowly Yuri pushed Otabek’s shirt up revealing his gorgeously carved stomach and chest the further he went, muscles covered by flawless tan skin, inviting and beautiful like a fine piece of art. More or less coordinate Yuri pulled Otabek’s shirt off of him and threw it carelessly over his shoulder somewhere onto the floor.

Otabek raised his hands as though he wanted to touch Yuri, so Yuri quickly caught his wrists and pinned them against the bed above Otabek’s head. Then he leaned down and pulled him into another kiss, a deeper one this time, hotter, fueled by unguarded lust and desire, a feeling coiling in the pit of his stomach and slowly moving elsewhere, his heart beating heavily. How was it possible to still want someone this bad after two years, after having done numerous things numerous times, feeling just as excited as the first time around though now actually knowing what the fuck you were doing.

Once their lips parted, panting and gasping for air, Yuri lightly tugged on Otabek’s lower lip with his teeth before moving over to trailing kisses along Otabek’s sharp and impossibly attractive jaw, down his neck and along his collar bones, then further down his chest, his mouth teasing Otabek’s nipples just the way he knew he liked it before continuing down his stomach, kiss after kiss until he reached the waistband of his pants, ones Yuri very much wanted to rip off just to have them gone right about fucking now.

Swiftly he moved off of the bed again and unbuttoned Otabek’s pants, waited for him to raise his hips enough so he could pull them off of him along with his boxer briefs, both landing somewhere on the floor across the room. Yuri ran his tongue along his lower lip as he looked down on Otabek lying on his brand new bed butt ass naked propped up on his elbows looking like he’d literally just stepped out of Yuri’s wet dreams looking hotter than any man should be allowed to look like. Thankfully this one belonged to him and, if it was up to him, he would never let him go again.

“Fuck, you’re so handsome,” Yuri said before he could stop himself. It was true, no possibility of denying it.

Before making a move on his man, Yuri slipped off the Team Kazakhstan jacket because it was slowly getting hot and he was pretty sure the actual room temperature had absolutely nothing to do with it.

“Move a little further onto the bed,” Yuri somehow managed to coherently say without sounding like he just turned a million times more stupid than he actually was. How much longer he would still have the ability to form clear sentences was another question.

Otabek complied without any questions and moved further onto the bed until his head rested on their pillows. Yuri followed him, crawling back onto the bed, his heels slipping off of his feet and falling onto the floor with a _thump_. While maintaining eye contact at all times like a challenge, Yuri made a move on Otabek’s cock that was definitely hard at this point, teasing it with light flicks of his tongue and licks across his head, moves he’s learned along the way and knew they excited Otabek in all the right ways.

Little content moans escaped Otabek mixed with throaty sounds as Yuri took his cock further into his mouth, his head bobbing up and down. He made up for the bit he couldn’t reach with his hand on Otabek’s base. With satisfaction he watched Otabek’s eyes fall shut, his head against the pillows while his hands moved into Yuri’s hair, fingers tangling and holding on to thick blond stands.

Yuri hollowed out his cheeks and lightly hummed while more delicious sounds came from above, Otabek’s grip in his hair a bit stronger, lightly pulling on it. He knew he could go on like that, make this quick and easy, but where would the fun in that be?

With an almost obscene smacking sound Yuri pulled back.

Yuri sat up then and rolled over quickly to remove his own boxer briefs but leaving the stockings because he could. Then he repositioned himself again on his hands and knees. He wanted Otabek to pound him and hell he would do anything to get just that. Control or no control, it didn’t matter in the end. He just wanted them to enjoy it without having to submit to specific roles or ideas because fuck that.

“Fuck me,” Yuri said, his voice a mix of demanding and pleading, while looking straight at Otabek hoping he’d give him what he wanted. Understanding flickered across his eyes and a small smirk tugged up one corner of his mouth. To underline his point Yuri lightly wiggled his ass, just to make sure they were on the same page.

Somehow he had half a brain left to push a small bottle of lube underneath one of the pillows while Otabek talked on the phone. Quickly he reached for it and then handed it over. A second later he heard the cap opening while the hairs on his neck stood up in anticipation and burning hot wanting. His so far ignored dick was demanding attention and he wanted to do something about it but he kind of needed both of his hands to steady himself.

As though Otabek could read his mind, he reached around him and took his cock into his hand giving it a few quick pumps. Shortly thereafter he could feel one of Otabek’s fingers at his entrance slowly easing inside. Yuri let out a low moan while closing his eyes and giving in to the feeling of a second finger following, moving slowly in and out, scissoring in all the right ways because Otabek was a fucking magician.

“I fucking…” Yuri said, breathlessly. “…love you.”

Then once he was satisfied with his work Otabek pulled out his fingers leaving Yuri feeling empty and craving that filling sensation. Otabek placed a kiss on his lower back. “I love you, too, Yura.” A moment later he could feel the slick head of his cock against his hole slowly easing inside, the stretch burning in all the best ways as all sorts of noises made it past Yuri’s lips only growing louder as Otabek began to move.

He was slow at first, as though he was testing the water like they hadn’t done this a fuck ton of times already across the years, before his thrusts turned quicker, harder, flesh hitting flesh, skin against skin. Yuri practically dissolved in the feeling, pressure building and his heart practically beating in his ears, his breathing ragged and all over the place. He could feel Otabek’s fingers digging into his hips holding him in place while his own hands grabbed fists full of the brand new blankets. He should’ve covered them with something but that thought hadn’t made it onto his list of priorities until he noticed that his own pre-cum had dripped down onto the blanket.

One of Otabek’s hands left his hip at some point and moved over to Yuri’s cock instead, its movement quickly following into the same relentless and mind boggling rhythm as his thrusts and Yuri swore he would come any minute now because holy fucking shit.

“Beka,” he said breathlessly, the name turning into the only coherent word Yuri could coax out of himself, everything else dissolving into nothing but indistinguishable noises.

Yuri wanted to whine in protest as Otabek stopped and pulled out, but before Yuri could convince his brain to form a complaint, he felt himself being flipped over onto his back. The look on Otabek’s face was mesmerizing, almost primal, his fingers setting Yuri’s skin on fire wherever he touched him only adding fuel to his craving for more.

Otabek leaned forward then for a kiss, Yuri’s hands wandering into his hair, pulling out his hair tie and letting it fall freely, tuning it into a tangled mess to match his own, then down his neck and onto his back, his fingernails leaving angry red trails in their wake. Swiftly Otabek moved back again and Yuri’s legs changed position until they rested against Otabek’s shoulders. Then, finally, Otabek was beck inside of him and, fuck, Yuri was seriously slowly seeing stars, a content low moan escaping him as Otabek returned to his previous rhythm driving Yuri fucking insane.

There was something impossibly gorgeous about the chaotic cacophony of moans and growls and skin slapping against skin that did things to Yuri. He never thought something that sounded so obscene could be so intriguing, intoxicating, and damn was he all for coaxing those sounds out of Otabek, hearing the unguarded wanting and need in them, seeing it in his every move and in his eyes, a side of him that only Yuri got to see.

One of Otabek’s hands left his hip once more and slowly moved up his left thigh, pushing his stockings up toward his knee. Otabek left kisses along the now exposed skin, one after another so nerve wrenchingly slowly, especially in contrast with the rhythm he was dictating with his dick, until he reached Yuri’s ankle.

“Beka,” Yuri moaned, a desperate little plea that tugged up one corner of Otabek’s mouth into a satisfied smirk. “A little harder.” How he managed to say even as much as that was completely beyond him but he’d done it, his reward following almost immediately.

“Yura,” he heard Otabek say between thrusts. Just like he asked for it they got a little harder, more frantic, quicker, while Yuri swore he could slowly see the stars rising on the horizon while his vision turned fuzzy around the edges. He would be sore as fuck tomorrow but he so did not care because Otabek pounding into him like this was just way too good, everything else was trivial.

They came practically at the same time as Yuri arched his back, his head digging into the bed while a last, much louder, moan ripped out of him joined by a similar one from Otabek.

“Fuck,” Yuri wheezed out between heavy breaths after he regained enough control over his brain, his chest heaving. Otabek flopped down onto Yuri before rolling over sideways onto his beck next to him panting just as much. Yuri knew either of them would have to get up to grab a wet towel or something to clean up but his bones felt like they were made of rubber, his muscles made of pudding, too weak to carry his weight.

“We should…” Otabek said sounding like every word was won through hard battle, frayed around the edges and hoarse.

“Yeah,” Yuri agreed but still neither of them moved. After a while Yuri managed to open his eyes again and turn his head enough to marvel over Otabek’s handsome profile, his hair nothing but a mess, his lips parted and his chest rising and sinking, his skin covered by a light sheen of sweat. “Shower.”

Yuri had no idea where he was taking the strength from but somehow he managed to drag himself out of bed, take Otabek by his hand and pull him along into the bathroom, the door closing behind them with a bang.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I sad so much fun writing the IKEA part of the chapter I don't even know. Just imagining those two walking around like actual adults doing adult stuff and then just having a pillow fight because that just seemed like something Yuri would do.  
> No joke, I legit looked up flats up for rent in St. Petersburg while trying to figure out Yuri's apartment. I also went on the Russian IKEA website to collect ideas for the furniture because I have problems, apparently. Finally my Russian skills came in handy hah. My Russian teacher would be proud *cough* Writing the smut part was quite the dollar coaster I won't lie but it turned out surprisingly well, I think, maybe? Well at least I hope so!
> 
> For those who are curious:  
> Bed: http://www.ikea.com/ru/ru/catalog/products/S69040225/#/S89040229  
> Kitchen: http://www.ikea.com/ru/ru/catalog/categories/departments/metod_kitchen/tools/conk/roomset/custom_kitchen_choice_13/#roomsetproductsComponentId
> 
> Next up, the dance Yuri performed for Otabek is real, I didn't make it up. I absolutely love Yanis Marshall because he makes my dancer heart beat all over the place because he's a genius. (Damn I miss my years of dancing) : https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xyMgPEM9CPM
> 
> Here's also a piece of fan art I saw that inspired part of the smut because I just could't help myself (NSFW obviously): https://kusoyabai.tumblr.com/post/156829594726/hi-i-made-this-blog-just-to-post-this 
> 
> So any thoughts? I greatly appreciate every comment and kudos you guys leave me. It truly helps me stay motivated and write more chapters, make them better each time. :)


	14. Love (Age 20-21)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title song: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3-NTv0CdFCk
> 
> I know this chapter might seem a bit disjointed at first, but don't worry, it'll all make sense. ;)
> 
> not beta'd.

The arena erupted in loud applause and cheerful calls as Mila finished her exhibition piece at Worlds the following year. She won gold the day before and, even though he didn’t really tell her, Yuri felt proud. He watched her work her ass off and it’d been worth it. She was the queen of the ladies, no doubt about that.

Mila bowed and then skated toward the exit, smiling as Sara welcomed her. They looked good together, their dresses matching shades of blue and green, even Yuri couldn’t deny that. In the corner of his eye he could see Michele look like he was in pain while Emil lightly patted his shoulder. It was a ridiculous sight time and time again.

Yuri stepped on the ice and waited for his queue, his outfit strangely subtle even for his standards, nothing more glamorous than black jeggings and a black dress shirt, its buttons a light shade of blue and gold, almost yellow, his hands hidden under black gloves. Yuri hair was pulled back into an artfully crafted braid done by Lilia, his eyes lightly underlined by black eyeliner—how he managed to trust Phichit enough to let him near his eyes with a sharp ass pencil was a mystery even to him—bringing out his eyes.

“Now on the ice, the World Championship men’s singles silver medalist representing Russia, Yuri Plisetsky,” the announcer said, his voice booming over the speakers.

With a smile Yuri skated a small round and then came to a halt in the middle of the ice, his legs crossed, his left one resting on the toe pick behind him, his right arm lightly raised in front of him, his palm up, elbow lightly bent, his face relaxed and his eyes looking off toward the distance almost longingly.

“He will be joined by the World Championship men’s singles gold medalist representing Kazakhstan, Otabek Altin,” the announcer added and the arena almost lost its collective mind, the shouts impossibly loud and almost coaxing something like a smile onto Yuri’s face even though he tried not to brake his pose.

Otabek skated a small round around him, his outfit almost exactly the same as Yuri’s, though his buttons were white, blue and red, his hair in a loose bun.

 

* * *

 

At the end of June the previous year Otabek and Yuri received two identical emails from the same designer who’d invited Yuri and Victor to be part of their campaign when Yuri was seventeen. This time they wanted to have Otabek and Yuri together, their centerpiece of the campaign perfectly tailored to fit them, at least according to their email.

Otabek wasn’t necessarily one for photo shoots, but even he couldn’t refuse the generous amount they were willing to pay and the excited sparkle in Yuri’s eyes as he asked him to agree. He never heard Yuri used the word ‘please’ so many times in less than three sentences before.

So, three days later they got into a black Lexus limousine sent over by the designer and drove to the location. It was easy to see that this was a high scale photo shooting organized by people who had a name to defend and uphold, everything done in a grand fashion, nothing halfheartedly. Even the companies back at home hadn’t gone out and sent a car for Otabek despite his status in Kazakhstan, so it only showed him once more that things were definitely different in Russia. Judging by Yuri’s unfazed expression this was something he’d experienced before, unlike him.

The shoot was held in an industrial style building; according to Yuri it was the exact same one as three years ago. Red bricks, old windows with white paint slowly peeling off of the old wood and shiny metal beams that stuck out and had definitely been added relatively recently.

“Mr. Plisetsky,” a young blonde woman wearing a white blouse, black pants and crazy high heels said once they walked inside. “And Mr. Altin. We are delighted that you’ve agreed to be part of this year’s fall campaign and we hope you’re drive was pleasant. Everyone is ready for you. If you could follow me, please.”

As they began to walk Yuri leaned over toward Otabek and whispered: “She was already here the last time, though someone apparently gave her a wardrobe change. Or maybe she realized that skin tight dresses don’t work on gay men.” He chuckled lightly at his own words while Otabek just shook his head.

“Whatever you might need, something to drink or to eat, just let me know and I will get it for you right away,” the blonde woman continued as they approached a door with a silver sign reading ‘Styling’ in both Russian and English.

“This is so creepy, I swear she said the exact words the last time,” Yuri said and pulled a grimace.

The stylists waiting for them behind the door led them to two chairs standing in front of gigantic mirrors with lights all around them, the tables beneath them littered with more make up related items than Otabek had ever seen in one place despite having accompanied Aisulu on her quest for something or another at _Sephora_ a couple of times. Why she needed makeup was beyond him, since she was more than pretty without it, but who was he to tell her no if it made her happy.

While their stylists began their work on their faces, slapping on layers upon layers of stuff that seemed to all do the exact same thing and leaving his face look almost exactly like it had ten layers ago, Otabek stole a few glances toward Yuri every once in a while. Of course he had his phone out, despite his stylists initial protests, and took a billion and one picture of their reflections in the mirrors to document the day. Otabek guessed that the stylist wasn’t putting up too much of a fight since Yuri hadn’t leaked any of the pictures last time so maybe they trusted him enough that he wouldn’t do it this time either.

Growing up with a sister Otabek was no foreigner to at least the basics like eyeliner, mascara or rouge since Aisulu had puppy eyed him into letting her ‘make him pretty’ a few times across the years. When asked why she never asked Serik for the same, Aisulu had explained that Serik looked too serious for it and that he was a lost case anyway. It made him laugh, especially since he basically looked like a younger, slightly shorter, version of Serik and showed the same stoic expression more often than not. He didn’t point that out though and simply took it as complement.

Of course the end result the stylist presented to him was something completely different than the mess Aisulu had left last time. The dark color of his eyes was only underlined more by the thin line of the eyeliner and the seventeen coats of mascara his stylist insisted he needed, for some reason, even though he supposedly had eyelashes that were ‘to die for, #goal’, whatever that meant.

Next up was a tall guy with a storm of hair on his head in all sorts of pastel colors, and clothes that matched his overall colorful look, who proceeded to fawn over his hair. It was surreal and made Yuri chuckle next to him.

“I just love the contrast, you know,” Matvei the hair stylist announced while running his fingers through Otabek’s hair with just a bit too much enthusiasm. “Like you’re all dark with straight lines and edges, thick strong hair, you know what I mean, while he’s all light and soft and peaceful. It’s a perfect match.”

Otabek really had to try his hardest not to laugh because it was the first time ever that he heard anyone define Yuri in such a way. Yuri was a lot of things, but peaceful definitely wasn’t one of them, at least not around most people and especially not in public. But they definitely were a perfect match, that he could agree with Matvei on.

“Where did you even find a fine specimen like him?” Yuri’s hair stylist asked and pointed her comb at Otabek. “No guy I ever met looked that good.”

“First off, none of your fucking business, and second, that one is mind so back off,” Yuri said between clenched teeth and Otabek swore Yuri was trying his hardest not to call her something or another. Instead of reacting defensively she merely laughed and smiled as she continued her work, unfazed by the harsh tone of Yuri’s words.

Based on the pictures he’d seen from the previous shooting, Otabek wasn’t too sure what to expect clothes wise. Either they would put him into heels like they’d done with Yuri, which most definitely would end with his face or ass unceremoniously landing on the floor, or in shiny looking shoes similar to those Victor had in his pictures. The latter was most definitely the safe option, and luckily also the one they went with.

Black combat boots that were only half laced, tight black jeans with leather patches across the knees with small, flat studs along the pockets, a black satin dress shirt with the top three buttons undone and a dark gray, almost black, suit jacket he was told not to wear. Looking into the mirror Otabek concluded that it was something he would wear, though he would never reach for that particular designer. According to one of the staff handing them their clothes, the pants alone were two and a half thousand dollars. Who had that kind of money?

“Hot damn, Altin,” he heard Yuri say, his lips pulled into a smug smirk.

“Right back at you, Plisetsky,” he said because damn Yuri looked absolutely stunning. There was no question that Yuri was the star of this entire thing, all focus rightfully on him. With or without insanely expensive designer clothing, Yuri was a walking, living, breathing, masterpiece and no one could convince Otabek otherwise.

Yuri’s look almost seemed to be inspired by the classic outfit that toreadors wore during bullfights. His jacket black with bright golden designs embroidered onto it in tight zigzags with a golden zip, his pants made of black velvet with a red top sticking out from under his lighter black and blue shirt along with a thin leather belt around his waist with fuzzy red endings hanging off of it. Just like the previous time the outfit was topped off with a pair of black leather heeled boots that added enough to his height that he was now the taller one.

Otabek stood next to one of the many assistants the photographer seemed to have and watched Yuri take his place on the set. Luckily he was up first giving Otabek enough time to figure out what the right approach for this shoot was because, honestly, this was unlike any he’d done in the past so he felt strangely nervous. Yuri on the other hand looked like a natural, like he knew exactly what he was doing and just how stunning he looked the entire time.

But the face Yuri pulled when the music switched was priceless, something Phichit would die for to get a picture of it, and Otabek felt all too tempted to find his phone, or Yuri’s, and take a picture himself. Yuri wrinkled his nose, his mouth transforming into a disgusted grimace and his eyes looked like he couldn’t believe this was happening, like someone was trying to actively punish him.

A year prior Aisulu had a big Taylor Swift phase and decided to push her new love for her music literally down both their throats simply because she could and there was absolutely now way of stopping her. While Otabek gave the music a fair chance, though ultimately decided that it wasn’t his, Yuri looked like he’d never been more offended by music. Amused he’d listened to Yuri go on a twenty minute rant detailing exactly what he hated about it and why she was the worst artist he’d ever had to endure and how Aisulu should get grounded for liking that stuff.

Of course Yuri went on to share his opinion with Aisulu herself, which resulted in a giant fight of spectacular proportions even for Yuri’s standards. Aisulu turned out to be remarkably good at presenting her arguments, which made sense since she was slowly but surely becoming the head of the debate club at her school, while Yuri fought tooth and nail to bite back. To Otabek’s surprise Yuri managed to stay away from cursing, not letting any of his usual colorful language slip in since he knew, just as well as Otabek, that their mother would be extremely angry if she knew Aisulu was exposed to language like that. Thinking about it, Yuri generally never cursed after stepping into their family house, which considering it was Yuri was a miracle, one Otabek really appreciated.

In the end Yuri announced his defeat while Aisulu squealed victoriously.

While ‘I Knew You Were Trouble’ blasted from the speakers at a very questionable volume, the photographer yelled instructions at Yuri, who tried his best to force his face back into a more appropriate expression. After a moment of collecting himself determination appeared in his eyes as though he wasn’t willing to let some song ruin this. In moments like these Otabek was proud of how far Yuri had come with his anger management and controlling his usually loud mouth. He truly wasn’t the fifteen-year-old boy anymore who called him an asshole for merely looking at him a moment too long.

Once the photographer got the shots he wanted, Yuri was led away back toward the stylists while Otabek took his place in front of the camera. The color of the backdrop was changed into a cooler gray while someone in the back switched on a beamer or some sorts that only blinded Otabek more than all the soft boxes did. It wasn’t until much later that he realized that the beamer projected water onto him, peaceful little waves.

The music switched again and a slowly building yet steady beat floated from the speakers, the kick drums setting in a few seconds later, more layers coming together. It was a song Otabek knew, one he’d played around with a few years prior while trying to mix it with another song, though he couldn’t quite recall what the other song had been. If he remembered correctly this one was ‘Azure’ by Paul Kalkbrenner. He liked that song choice, definitely more than Yuri’s T. Swift one.

‘Azure’ reminded from of the song Yuri had sent him along with the picture from his shoot at seventeen, that really suggestive sexy one that drove him crazy. This one wasn’t nearly as sexy as ‘Moan’ but it had a certain something. Mentally he made a note to mention both songs to Yuri next time they’d be looking for a make out soundtrack.

After a while his eyes adjusted to the brightness and the photographer barked his commands telling Otabek to relax, put on that signature face of his, stoic and piercing, and just try out a couple of poses.

“Don’t be shy,” he added and Otabek wanted to laugh just a little. That was easy to say when behind the camera and not in front of it with an entire room watching you. He wasn’t necessarily camera shy, and performing in front of an audience really wasn’t a novelty to any degree, yet somehow this situation was stressful.

“Look alive, sunshine,” he heard Yuri say from somewhere in the back of the room, though he couldn’t see him due to all the lights. “Just imagine it’s me taking the pictures.”

Yuri’s words of encouragement, well the Yuri version of encouragement, did help a little. The more time passed the more comfortable Otabek felt under the photographer’s watchful eye, managed to alternate between different poses while keeping his face just the way he wanted him to. It really wasn’t all that hard and there was nothing to be afraid of. At some point it was even kind of fun.

After his part was done the photographer ordered another set change and Otabek expected to get dragged away for an outfit change just like Yuri. To his surprise the only things that changed about his look were his suit jacket, which was exchanged for a heavy leather jacket with a few more zips than really necessary, the addition of fingerless gloves and the increased amount of smudged eyeliner.

Otabek stood and watched as some big guy wheeled in a Harley Davidson from another room. It was a gorgeous bike in black and silver, the model Otabek had been eying for years but never quite had the money to invest in one. His own bike was beautiful and his most prized possession, but that one, it was a sight to behold.

“Stunning, right?” the photographer asked suddenly appearing next to him. 

“Definitely,” Otabek agreed.

“My daughter’s. Once you and Plisetsky agreed to do the shoot I couldn’t resist but ask her to borrow it.”

Whoever that photographer was, he was definitely prepared, or maybe one of his assistants was prepared and stalked their social media enough to figure out Otabek’s affinity for bikes and just how hot Yuri looked on them. His Instagram was definitely proof of both.

“Ah, right on time,” the photographer said a moment later as he turned around. “Everybody back on their positions.”

Otabek turned, guessing Yuri had returned from his change of outfits, and his jaw nearly hit the floor. Yuri always looked outrageously beautiful no matter what he wore, or what time of the day it was, yet seeing him after professionals had their way with him was something he wasn’t prepared for. His previous look had been stunning, yet this one was almost outlandish and perfect.

Yuri’s hair was a carefully crafted mess of loose strands framing and lightly falling across his face, his eyes artfully accented with smudged eyeliner and black eye shadow, and his lips showing the light sheen of lip gloss. His wore a sleeveless shirt with a Tiger’s head on it painted with wild strokes of reds, whites and blacks, and a loose black skirt that reminded Otabek of his ‘Creep’ gala piece from last year, along with an identical pair of halfway laced combat boots to the ones Otabek wore. They also wore the same fingerless gloves.

“Like what you see?” Yuri asked in passing, a smirk on his face like a challenge, pleased and mischievous.

Concentrating on the task at hand suddenly seemed a thousand times harder than it had before because Yuri consumed all his thoughts.

The photographer went on to explain what he had in mind for the pictures, his voice booming over some song Otabek couldn’t identify. Yuri sat on the bike with his back toward the handles, his shoes resting on some metal parts near the wheels while Otabek stood next to the bike, his body turned, with his left hand on Yuri’s shoulder. A subtle smile pulled up the corners of Yuri’s lips and Otabek had to try his hardest not to lean in and kiss him.

“You look beautiful,” he managed to say once the sound of the shutter subsided for just a moment and a new song began to play, a guitar possibly accented by a drum though Otabek wasn’t a hundred percent sure.

“Thank you,” Yuri said, quietly, as he leaned back, his left elbow resting on the body of the bike, his right hand coming up to lightly rest against Otabek’s chin as though holding him in place. Otabek moved his own hands, one resting near Yuri’s elbow on the bike and the other lightly on his thigh. Throughout their reposition Yuri’s eyes didn’t leave Otabek’s even for a second, piercing and steady, endless like a quiet lake at night, a beautiful sight.

The photographer hollered in approval over the unmistakable voice belonging to Lana Del Rey. “I can practically hear the tension and chemistry, fuck! That’s exactly what I meant.” Yuri smiled then and Otabek was sure his knees were about to give out beneath him, his heart melting.

 

* * *

 

“The music is ‘Love’ by Lana Del Rey and the choreography by Plisetsky himself” the announcer added as the lights were dimmed and two spotlights bathed Yuri and Otabek in cool light.

After their photo shoot last year, Yuri came up with the idea of creating a pair skate gala program for them. Somehow the song had inspired him enough to disregard the very obvious first association that people would make to Victor and Katsudon and their program from the GPF years ago, but once the idea had appeared in his mind it grew in place and refused to let him go.

With excitement in his voice he told Otabek about it and, with little resistance, managed to convince him that it was a good idea. How they would manage to practice it together once Otabek would return to Almaty was something Yuri simply ignored for the time being.

The next day he dragged Otabek to the rink and tried to explain his vision to him, grand and raw in some ways, stripped back and daring. He knew they couldn’t possibly learn any of the really cool stuff pair skaters or ice dancers did, but surely they could learn a thing or two off of YouTube tutorials. They’d managed to learn that other lift for _Stars on Ice_ and thus knew that it wasn’t that hard, just took some practice.

Quickly Yuri realized that this was the first time he choreographed a program himself instead of having Lilia or Victor do it based on his ideas. It was fun, a lot of it surprisingly. No wonder Victor enjoyed it so much. While he worked with Weir for his ‘Creep’ program, he’d watched the other skater, observed his process of coming up with the program, the way he felt the music and translated it into every move of his arms or legs, every jump and spin, and now Yuri tried to apply the same as he listened to the song over and over again while trying to envision it in his head.

Whenever he got stuck Otabek offered his help, switched elements around to make the flow a bit more natural, and soon enough they had the entire thing planned. Yuri never thought that choreographing a program could be this fun, this interesting even, but it had been an adventure, like discovering something so familiar yet completely new.

The music started and they set into motion, their first moves slow and calculated, small circles around each other before joining into a forward spiral next to each other, holding it for almost the entire length of the rink before switching into crossovers and a simple spin almost perfectly in synch. The beginning was easy, like warm up, but the next move was a bit more daring.

Yuri skated backward in front of Otabek, his arms raised as Otabek came closer and bent his knees before reaching for Yuri’s right leg. With a bit of Yuri’s help he hoisted him over his shoulder legs first and then slowly lowered him down along his back while holding Yuri by his outstretched arms. Yuri still remembered the first time they attempted that move and how he practically started to scream in panic once he was upside down above the ice. He trusted Otabek more than anyone, but that didn’t make it any less scary.

The audience erupted in a short burst of applause while Yuri touched back down on the ice and then went through another chorographical sequence, a moment for Yuri to collect his nerves before the next figure. They transitioned through slow moves across the ice with their eyes locked just like their hands. After another crossover they went into a joined camel spin before separating and going down into a simple sit spin.

As Lana sang about being young and in love they came together on the ice, Yuri’s hands on Otabek’s shoulders and Otabek’s hands on his waist as they skated along. Many times across the years Yuri had wondered why people made such a big deal out of love, why romance was such a driving force in art and music, why people claimed that love was like magic, the arms of a lover like the feeling of coming home.

As he looked at Otabek just then, his face caught between concentration and fondness, he once more understood what they all meant. Everything he’d ever heard people say about love he’d found in Otabek, in the way he spoke and acted, the way he touched and kissed him, the warmth he felt whenever they hugged or cuddled in bed, the love he felt whenever he as much as looked at him or felt Otabek look at him. Maybe he was turning into a sap, but he swore he’d found home in Otabek, a home he never knew he missed or searched for, a home he never wanted to let go of ever again because how could anything ever feel better than this?

Once they came out of another curve Yuri hopped into the air with Otabek holding him in place against his body, one arm holding his legs the other his upper body while Yuri’s right hand was on his cheek as they spun around, hoping that they wouldn’t loose their balance like they’d done a lot of times in practice and fall onto the ice.

Before the grand finale came a synchronized triple axel which they both landed flawlessly and was then followed by the same figure they’d done at _Stars on Ice_ with Otabek down in a lunge and Yuri doing a Beillmann while standing on Otabek’s skate, one arm around his neck and the other holding his blade while Otabek steadied him as they soared across the ice before dissolving into their end position, the music fading away while loud cheering applause faded in.

They made it without a single mistake, a success accenting a generally amazing season filled with two gold, silver, and two bronze medals for Yuri and a very similar result for Otabek.

The loudest shouts emerging from the audience came from Victor and Katsudon standing near the barrier. They looked like they’d just cried, Yuri noted as they stepped off the ice to make space for whoever was next. For once Yuri didn’t immediately start yelling and fighting back as both Victor and Katsudon pulled him into a way too tight hug. Over Katsudon’s shoulder he could see Otabek smiling, his hand still holding Yuri’s.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this happened. Originally I had a different song and choreography in mind, but then I decided that I didn't like it so I changed it to "Love". Even went to the rink today to try out the choreography, as much as I could, to see if it would work. If I had a partner, and proper skills, it'd probably look nice.
> 
> I'm having a major crisis over the next chapter. Like I had an idea but then I started to write it and I legit can't get into it nor get my creativity flowing so I think I'll scrape it and write a different one instead, or possibly skip that one all together. What do you think? On the other hand I can tell you that I already have both chapter 16 and 17 done, and oh boy I am pretty sure you'll like them. I legit cried probably the entire time while writing them (hint hint - good tears, not sad tears). I'm so excited to share them with you OMG Those who follow me on tumblr probably have an idea of what those chapters might be about (victuri-oh-nice if you want to follow me) but that's all I'm saying ;)
> 
> Here are some pictures that helped me throughout the chapter:
> 
> \- The bike: http://www.picautos.com/images/harley-davidson-flstfb-fat-boy-special-05.jpg
> 
> \- Yuri's first look, taken from a Balmain fashion show, more or less: http://assets.vogue.com/photos/56a3dbbed2f88c0c56e2f39e/master/pass/_MON0010.jpg
> 
> \- Yuri's second look: http://vitkyas.tumblr.com/post/157331932551/yurio-plisetsky-прима-балерина-this-is-how-i
> 
> \- The pose I had in mind on the bike: http://09raito.tumblr.com/post/155580400534/terrible
> 
> Writing this chapter was honestly so much fun, really enjoyed it. I hope it shows in the text, somehow. and yeah I know as always this note is getting out of hand length wise, I'm sorry about that.
> 
> So any thoughts? I greatly appreciate every comment and kudos you guys leave me. It truly helps me stay motivated and write more chapters, make them better each time. :)


	15. How Would You Feel (Age 22)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title song: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wY473jAptyw
> 
> :33
> 
> not beta'd.

"Beka, the landing of that triple whatever that just was looked a bit sloppy," Aisulu commented. Just like every Wednesday she came to the rink after school to watch Otabek practice during his additional two allocated hours between public hours. She was leaning against the barrier, her eyes following Otabek's every move as he skated across the ice. She was good at counting rotations but still couldn't quite differentiate all the jumps, even after Otabek had tried to explain and demonstrate all of them to her, showing her the differences between them. The only one she remembered was the Axel, simply because it was the only one with a forward entry.

"That was a triple toe loop,” Otabek prompted and pointed at his right skate. “Jump with a backward entry assisted by using the toe pick and jumped and landed on the right outside edge.”

Aisulu rolled her eyes. “Yeah, yeah, show off, still sloppy though.”

“Is that so?" he asked, amused. "Then maybe you should show me how it's done."

"You know, I totally would but _unfortunately_ I forgot my skates at home." They both laughed then. It wasn’t overly loud or wild, nothing like the way Yuri's jokes sometimes caused Otabek to laugh so hard that the muscles on his stomach started to hurt, but as for them it was still quite something. Otabek loved hearing his sister laugh, seeing her happy and smiling.

He skated across the ice, got into the right backward position before launching into a quad loop to show off. The landing was clean and smooth. A satisfied, although subtle, smile appeared on his face. Aisulu remained silent but continued to watch him. The arena was quiet, nothing but the sound of his blades on the ice and his breathing. He could play some music but somehow the quiet just seemed much more comforting.

"Do you miss him?" Aisulu asked sometime later. She had her phone in her hands and looked at the screen attentively, though she did look up when he took too long to answer.

"Of course I do," he said, truthfully, knowing exactly whom she meant. He missed Yuri every day, more with each one, like a steadily growing ache that didn’t pass until they saw each other again. They had text messages and Skype calls, but he missed falling asleep with Yuri by his side, missed the sound of his even breathing as he slept, the way he sometimes lightly snored or mumbled random words in his dreams in three or four different languages, and the way he sometimes curled up against him, his head resting on Otabek's chest and his hand above his heart.

Otabek missed waking up next to him, the sleepy expression on Yuri's face, the pillow creases running across his cheeks and just how fuzzy his hair was, sticking up in every direction. Otabek missed eating breakfast together, missed going to the rink and skating on the same ice, missed watching Yuri practice his routines or listen to his comments as he watched Otabek. He missed going out to eat or watch a movie at the cinema once in a while, or just going on a walk through the park, their hands intertwined or his arm across Yuri's shoulder. Missed seeing the soft expression in Yuri's eyes whenever he spotted a cat, the way he always tried to get them to come to him so he could pet them, the hushed and calm tone with which he spoke to them, and just how happy and carefree he looked in those moments. He missed kissing him and holding him in his arms.

Every time they had to part ways he felt like a piece of him stayed behind, like something was missing whenever Yuri wasn't there.

"Then why do you not live together like Serik and his wife?" she inquired.

"We're not married," Otabek pointed out although he wouldn't mind marrying Yuri one day. It was a beautiful though, one he had many times across the past year or two.

"Obviously." Aisulu cocked her head and gave him that look that said _'duh'_. "What I mean is that Serik moved in with her after like a year of dating or whatever, so why do you and Yuri not live together? Doesn't it suck that he's all the way in Russia?"

"It's not that simple, Aisulu."

"Try me."

Otabek knew there was no way she would drop the topic so he skated over to her so he wouldn't have to talk across the entire rink.

"My home rink is in Almaty, Anton is here and you're here," he began, his elbows resting on the barrier. "And Yuri's rink is in St. Petersburg, his coach is there and everything. He can't just drop everything and move here. It's not that simple. But one day we'll live together, maybe once I retire or something."

As much as he looked forward to a life with Yuri, a shared forever, the idea of retiring from skating scared the hell out of him. But, at twenty-four, he still had a few more years to go as long as he wouldn't get any major injuries. The future would be beautiful but it wasn't time, not yet. But one day. One day he would have the guts to ask Yuri to marry him and to share the rest of his life with him, or however long Yuri would be willing to have him.

“Even if I hate the time we spend apart, it makes the time we do get to spend together somehow more special, makes it worth the wait each time. At least that way he won’t get sick of me as quickly.” He chuckled at his own words while Aisulu just rolled her eyes again as though he’d just said the most stupid thing she had ever heard him say.

"You've moved rinks in the past, can't you do that again?"

"What's with all the questions today?" Otabek countered hoping to pull the conversation toward a different direction.

Aisulu shrugged and looked back down on her phone, scrolling down something. "Yuri posted a picture," she announced a moment later. "Aw, he says he misses you. That's so cute! Beka! You have to marry him, I mean just look at that!"

Excitedly she turned her phone around to show him the picture on Instagram. Otabek took the phone from her hand to have a better look. The picture showed Yuri standing in his living room looking out of the window with a mug of tea in his hands wearing black leggings and his Team Kazakhstan jacket. Just as Aisulu said the caption read ‘I miss you’ with the Kazakh flag next to the Russian one, plus a mention of Mila being the one who took the picture. Yuri looked beautiful with the golden afternoon light on his face indicating that the picture must have been taken the previous day, and his hair in a loose braid. It'd gotten quite long again across the past four years.

"You have that look on your face, dear brother," Aisulu said before taking back her phone and pushing it into her pocket.

"What look?"

"That look you always get when Yuri is around, it's cute, like you’re looking at the most precious thing in this universe or something. You must really love him a lot. I mean your face never looks that serene and enamored, ever. Then again, your face is usually never more than a resting bitch face."

"Language," Otabek said knowing what their mother would say should she hear Aisulu use a word like that. In response she just gave him her best 'don't change the subject' look. "And yes, I do love him a lot."

"See? That's what I mean," she said and looked victorious as though she'd just proven some grand point. "You should at least consider taking the next step, move in with him or ask him to move in with you, though I'm sure his apartment is nicer than yours judging by the pictures he posted since moving in."

Time and time again Otabek was surprised by Aisulu’s understanding of things, relationships and love, despite being nothing more than a teen. Then again he reminded himself of everything he had already lived through at seventeen, the mess that was Yuri’s seventeenth year, so maybe Aisulu’s words weren’t that surprising after all. She had always seemed smarter and wiser then her age would indicate.

"Where's all of this coming from all of a sudden, anyways?" Otabek finally asked because slowly he felt like she knew something he didn't and it irked him. It wasn’t that they never talked about things like this but something seemed different today and he couldn’t pinpoint what it was. "Usually you're never quite _this_ inquisitive or invested in my love life."

"I just want you to be happy, brother dearest," she said with an innocent but sweet smile. "Anyway, I'm getting cold. Can we get ice cream on the way home?"

He raised an eyebrow. "Didn't you just say you're cold?"

"It's hot outside so I will need ice cream to survive the way home,” she explained. Otabek only shook his head. “But before we leave, go back on the ice and do a flip or loop or whatever so I can take a picture and post it on your Instagram to remind Yuri of just how awesome his boyfriend is.”

Simply to make her happy, Otabek did as he was asked. While Aisulu got her phone ready he skated a lazy lap around the rink and jumped a few singles. He could still remember how hard they’d seemed when he first started to learn jumps, how scary it’d been to actually jump and try to land. Back then he couldn’t have even imagined what quads felt like.

“Just don’t make the landing sloppy again,” Aisulu chimed in just as he was getting ready for another quad loop. Of course her comment distracted him enough that halfway through he already knew he would butcher the jump, even more than before.

“That’s not what I meant!” Aisulu groaned as he landed first on his knee and then on his ass and skidded across the ice. “Are you okay though?” There was concern in her voice. He knew she really didn’t like seeing him fall because she always worried he’d get hurt enough to mess up his season or career. It did hurt a little, it always did, but he’d gotten used to it as well as he could across the years. As competitive figure skater you had to accept falling on the ice as part of the job description because there was no way around it.

“Marvelous,” Otabek said as he picked himself off of the ice. “I hope you got a good shot of that.”

In the end Otabek posted a black-and-white picture of a triple axel mid air while Aisulu posted one of the pictures of him landing on his ass with a caption that merely said ‘my brother, the gold medalist’.

 

* * *

 

**_Four days earlier_ **

Over the years since his grandpa had passed away, Yuri tried to take the time out of his schedule to fly to Moscow to visit him whenever the date of his death came up in his calendar. But now he was about to break that tradition and visit him a couple of months early. He was a man on a mission, had things he needed to say, needed someone to confide in before taking the next step. Sure, he could talk to Victor or Yuuri about this, could even consider talking to Yakov or Lilia, but really, his grandpa was the only person he really wanted to talk to.

Yuri navigated the cemetery with an odd ease that almost made him a little uncomfortable. He never wanted to be in a position in which he could say that he could find his grandparent’s grave with his eyes closed. Never wanted to be in a position where he would have to visit him at the cemetery instead of his apartment, but it wasn’t a choice that had been up to him and, over the years, he finally learned to accept it and move on.

It’d been incredibly hard, there was no use lying about it, but he managed, somehow. It made him stronger in ways. But he knew that the credit for it wasn’t all his, Otabek’s help had been a vital part in all of it. If he weren’t there, if they hadn’t been friends, Yuri wasn’t sure how he would’ve handled everything. Victor, Yuuri, and the others had tried their best to support him but it wasn’t the same.

A familiar fist wrapped itself around Yuri’s heart as he approached the grey stone flecked with gold and silver, the engraved words and dates clean and simple, Nikolai Plisetsky right next to Oxana Plisetskaya. Even in the afterlife they were together, a thought that had been the source of strange comfort to Yuri all this time.

“Hey, grandpa, grandma,” he said, his voice quiet and matching the almost jarring silence of the cemetery.

There were barely any people around, a handful scattered around the vast grounds, bodies half hidden behind stones and trees. They were far enough away that Yuri could talk normally if he wanted, but he couldn’t make himself do it.

“There’s something I need to tell you,” he said before sitting down on the little wooden bench right opposite to the stone. Old black and white photographs showing much younger versions of his grandparents smiling back at him even if their eyes didn’t look directly into the camera but rather off into the distance. “Grandpa, you remember Otabek Altin, right? As you know we’ve been friends for over six years now—damn has it really been so long already—and he’s been my boyfriend for the past three of them. He means a lot to me, he really does. He makes me happy in a way that I never thought another person could, just like you said someone would one day. I’m sorry for always making fun of you when you told me about love and relationships, for my stupid comments and declarations of how I would never be in a relationship because they were stupid and love sucked.”

Yuri lightly smiled then and shook his head. At thirteen or fifteen love had seemed so trivial, something that was only for idiots like Victor or Georgi, something that seemed beneath Yuri. Now at twenty-two he couldn’t even recall how it felt like to not feel loved even if the person he loved was three time zones away.

“On your last day five years ago you said something to Otabek that, in the long run, of course turned out to be more than true,” Yuri continued even though remembering that day still hurt despite how much time had passed. “Now would be the moment during which you’d scold me for listening in on other people’s conversations but I couldn’t help myself. I was curious what you wanted to tell him, okay? You asked him to take care of me, to help me when I needed it most, and he’d done it better than anybody else could. You’d be satisfied.”

Yuri could still remember those days, weeks actually, when all their conversations amounted to was Yuri being nothing more than a crying mess listening to Otabek’s soothing voice saying absolutely nothing at all even though it felt like he said everything. How he deserved all that was still beyond Yuri, but he was impossibly grateful nonetheless.

“At some point you said that,” Yuri continued but paused for a moment to recall the words. He knew he didn’t need to, not really, but he wanted to even if only for himself. “You said ‘You’re a good guy, Otabek. I’m sure one day Yurochka will realize that, too.’, do you remember that? Well, I did realize that, I truly did. He’s so much more than just a good guy, grandpa. I really love him, more than I thought I could, which is why I want to ask him to marry me.”

He paused to take in the weight of his own words. He really wanted to do it even though it was a big step and scared the shit out of him but at the same time it felt right, more than right because Otabek was the right guy.

“I know, crazy, isn’t it? But I know that if you were still here you would give me your blessing, would probably give him a Plisetsky worthy shovel talk, warn him to not break my heart. He could never hurt me, I know as much. Anyway, that’s what I wanted to tell you because I simply needed someone to tell this to before my flight to Almaty.”

Three days later on a day that seemed too gray for the occasion, Yuri found himself standing in front of the Altin family house literally frozen in place. His feet might as well have been glued to the cobblestone beneath him. The house towered in front of him, strangely imposing even though he knew there was nothing inside he needed to fear.

Despite how much of a shit he used to be years ago—hell he still was a shit, let’s be honest—the Altin’s had welcomed him with open arms and out of character smiles. Yuri quickly realized that Otabek’s family shared his default facial expression of unreadable-stoic-stone, even in moments when they were positive and happy about something. The only one of them that showed that feat the least was Aisulu with her happy nature and carefree smiles. She could pull a hell of a stone face if she wanted, but she rarely did when Yuri was around.

“Do you plan on going inside or just standing in front of the door forever?” Aisulu asked from somewhere behind Yuri. His heart almost jumped out of his chest and he turned around in surprise. Aisulu looked up at him with a smile, her leather school backpack hanging off of her right shoulder. In ways she looked a lot like Otabek though she was much shorter and more petit, but she shared his eyes, dark yet somehow warm at the same time, and the thick shiny black hair. “What are you even doing here, Yuri? Beka didn’t mention that you’re here.”

“He doesn’t know,” Yuri said, slowly, wondering if it was a good idea to trust her with the information, not that there would be a way of avoiding it. In the end he also wanted to talk to her, at some point, possibly. “So I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t tell him.”

Mischief ignited in her eyes and she lightly cocked her head. “What will I get in return?”

“How about a secret, one that even Otabek doesn’t know about yet?” Yuri offered. Just like Phichit, Aisulu loved secrets and gossip and simply knowing things. Knowing her she probably had an entire folder on her phone full of blackmail on Yuri, and Otabek, so this was the best currency Yuri had to offer.

“Fine.”

“But you’ll have to wait. I need to talk to your parents first, and then I’ll tell you the secret, okay?”

Eagerly Aisulu walked past Yuri, up the few steps toward the door and swiftly pulled out her key to open it. Inside both slipped out of their shoes and Aisulu pulled out the slippers that had somehow become Yuri’s across his past few visits and handed them to him.

“Mama, papa, I’m home and I found a guest outside our door,” Aisulu announced, cheerfully, as they walked through the entry hall.

“Who is it?” Otabke’s mother, Farida, asked from what sounded like the kitchen or maybe the living room. A moment later Otabek’s father, Timur, walked out of his office with a surprised expression, or at least the closest thing to that he could muster onto his otherwise rarely moving face.

“Yuri?” he asked. “Otabek hadn’t mentioned you’d be coming.”

Yuri walked up to him and extended both his hands, which Timor took and shook while looking almost a little surprised that Yuri still remembered the proper Kazakh manners.

Farida came out of the living room baring a similar expression mixed with something that looked almost a little like delight. “It’s nice to see you again, Yuri. How are you?”

“I’m good, Mrs. Altin,” Yuri said while trying his best not to let any of his nerves show.

“Yuri,” she said in that motherly reprimanding tone Yuri had heard her use on Otabek and Aisulu in the past. “I’ve told you a million times already to just call me Farida.”

“At least he’s got manners,” Timur noted. “So, what brings you here?”

“He said he wants to talk to you, but he didn’t want to tell me about what,” Aisulu said before disappearing toward the stairs to probably go to her room.

“Is that so?” Farida asked. “Well than, let’s go to the living room then. Would you maybe like some tea?”

He didn’t want tea, he didn’t want anything really, besides getting this over with, but he nodded anyways followed by a polite ‘thank you’. Manners had never been his strongest side, yet each time he was at the Altin house, especially when interacting with Otabek’s family, he felt the need to be on his best behavior. He wanted them to like him so it only made sense, right? He might’ve obsessively looked up anything he could find on Kazakh etiquette and manners just to impress them. Back in Russia no one would believe it if he told them about it.

Together with Timur, Yuri walked toward the living room while Farida went into the kitchen to make tea. It didn’t take long for her to reappear with a tray containing three cups and a porcelain teapot. She sat down next to her husband on the sofa and then poured each of them some tea. Yuri had once asked Otabek why they never filled their cups completely, to which he explained that a full cup would mean that the host wanted the guest to leave, which Yuri thought was odd.

“You look nervous, Yuri,” Timur observed and Yuri nearly dropped his cup. He wanted to curse, and in any other place he would’ve very much done so. His hopes of doing this without letting them see just how nerve wrecking this was for him went up in flames. “Are you sure you’re okay? Did Otabek do something?”

“No, no, absolutely not,” Yuri quickly assured him. “But I did want to talk to you about him, actually.” Fuck, why was this just so hard? He knew he didn’t have to do it, that maybe these traditional things were outdated and shit, but he knew Otabek liked these types of sappy things and he was kind of sure he read something about something along these lines being traditional here. Or maybe not, he wasn’t even sure anymore. “In Russia we don’t really have much of a tradition for this, though, and please correct me if I’m wrong, I think I’ve read something about it being one in Kazakhstan. If I remember correctly it should probably be my parents who should have this conversation with you, but as you know, they are unfortunately dead.”

He was rambling, of fucking course he was. Where was the Ice Tiger of Russia when he needed him, where was his bravery, his confidence, and why did it have to fail him now. Judging my the lightly softer expression in Farida’s expression she probably had a good idea where Yuri was going, though it didn’t make any of this easier in any sort of way.

“Anyway, what I am trying to say is,” he said before taking a shaky breath, his hands clutching his cup as though his life depended on it, like he needed something to hold on it so he wouldn’t loose his shit completely. “I’ve known your son for over six years now and I’ve had some of the best moments of my life with him by my side. Otabek is a great guy, he really is, and I can say, with utmost confidence, that I have never loved anyone as much as I love him.” Yuri paused again, his heart beating so hard in his chest he wondered if Farida and Timur could hear it, and his hands were definitely visibly shaking. “I would like to ask him to marry me, and I wanted to ask you first hoping that you would give me your blessing.”

Time seemed to stand still as the words left Yuri’s mouth. He felt relieved to have them out in the open, but at the same time, the more seconds passed, the more he feared that Timur was about to tell him no. He knew the Altin’s liked him, but did they like him enough to welcome him into his family like this?

Timur placed his cup back on the table and then looked at Farida, a silent conversation happening between them that Yuri didn’t understand. Farida smiled then, the corners of her lips curling upward just that little bit, before she nodded her head so faintly Yuri wasn’t even sure if it had actually happened.

Finally Timur turned back toward him. “I won’t lie to you, Yuri,” he said, his voice calm and even, reminding him of the way Otabek spoke. “This isn’t necessarily the life I envisioned for Otabek when he was a little boy and then grew up into the man he is today. But out of all the people who came and went, he chose you. No one can deny that you make him happy, that you are the only person he wants and that he deeply cares about you. So who would I be to deny him that, to reject your request at promising him a life together?”

He paused then as though contemplating his next words.

“As father my only wish has always been to see my children grow up to be someone they can be proud of, live a life that gives them fulfillment and content. Serik has his family, his first son to be born in only a few more months, and Aisulu has her friends and studies, a grand plan for the future she works toward, something she definitely learned from Otabek and not Serik.”

As Yuri listened to Timur speak, more words than he’d ever heard the man say, he could feel his eyes begin to sting just a little bit. He didn’t want to cry in front of them, even if they were happy tears because all his fears were about to be proven wrong. His wish about to be granted, something he hoped for but hadn’t taken for granted because he thought there was a valid possibility that they would say no. But it seemed like they wouldn’t do that. How was he just this lucky?

“All these years Otabek devoted his life to skating, to bringing honor to our country and our family, and he’s done it brilliantly. He deserves to live the life that will make him happiest, and not me. I respect you, Yuri, and I can see that you’re giving my son exactly what he needs, so who would I be to tell you no? You’ve become part of this family a long time ago, so if you want to merry him, please, you have my blessing.”

“You want to marry Beka?” Aisulu’s voice boomed from the hallway. Yuri looked up to find her standing in the door with the biggest smile on her face he’d ever seen, her eyes almost sparkling. She was definitely the most expressive member of the Altin family, no doubt about that.

“Aisulu,” Farida said in the same tone she’d used on Yuri before. “What did I tell you about eavesdropping on other people’s conversations?”

“It was Serik’s idea! I told him that Yuri was here and talking to you so he told me I should go and listen because he was curious,” she protested and then held up her phone. “Come on, tell them it was your idea!”

Yuri was on the verge of having a heart attack, though knowing Aisulu he somehow wasn’t surprised. Well at least now he didn’t have to talk to her separately anymore, nor with Serik who’s laugh emerged from the speakers of Aisulu’s phone.

“It might’ve been my idea,” Serik finally said. “Can you blame me?”

“What do you think?” Yuri asked directed at both siblings hopefully loud enough for the phone to pick it up.

“What did he say?” Serik asked. Maybe it hadn’t been loud enough after all.

“He asked what we think,” Aisulu repeated without taking her eyes off of Yuri.

“Cheers my friend,” Serik said and Yuri literally wasn’t able to hold back his tears anymore. Fuck everything. “Ain’t nobody else is gonna want to marry Otabek’s sorry ass, and he should be thankful he managed to make the star of Russia fall for him.”

“Guess now there’s no backing down anymore, Yuri,” Aisulu said with a smile before she rushed over to him and pulled him into an unexpected hug. “Now you have to ask him. If he’ll say no, I’ll kick his ass.”

Yuri couldn’t help but laugh at that. How was this possibly happening? All four Altin’s had given him their blessing so now, really, the only thing left to do was ask Otabek. Somehow that seemed even scarier than asking his family even though it shouldn’t. Otabek loved him so why would he say no?

“Thank you,” Yuri managed to say after Aisulu let him go and then wiped his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll be the first one to admit that my entire knowledge on Kazakh culture and etiquette is based on what I read online, so if any of this is utter bullshit, please tell me so I can fix it. I tried my best, either way.
> 
> Anyway, so here we are. As I mentioned on tumblr I was an emotional mess writing almost this entire chapter, while I had to come up with all the things Yuri wanted to say and tried to figure out how he would feel and what he'd think during all of this. I hope it came across at least partially as well as I hope it does. I am so excited to read any of your guys thoughts on this and I've been dying ever since I finished writing this chapter like a week or so ago because I was so nervous to show it to you guys.
> 
> Up next comes exactly what you expect and oh boy...prepare for a treat. :3 
> 
> So any thoughts? I greatly appreciate every comment and kudos you guys leave me. It truly helps me stay motivated and write more chapters, make them better each time. :)


	16. Glitter in the Air (Age 22)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title song: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GCXhoEE6ZRI
> 
> Where I am it's already March 1st, which means it's our favorite angry kitten's birthday! Yeahy! As surprise I'm bringing you THE PROPOSAL chapter four days early. I hope it won't disappoint :3
> 
> Also, before we get into the chapter, I wanted to thank each and every one of you for reading this story, for leaving kudos and amazing comments. I love hearing your thoughts and knowing that you enjoy this story I'm writing makes me feel so incredibly happy. Thank you so, so much!
> 
> not beta'd.

After bringing Aisulu back home Otabek couldn’t stop thinking about their conversation, about Aisulu’s insistent words that he should take the next step in his relationship with Yuri. He really wanted to, but just like he told her, it wasn’t quite that simple. During nightly Skype calls they’d mused about a life spent together in one place, imagined what it’d be like to live in the same apartment, how they would adopt a bunch of cats and spoil them even more than Victor spoiled Makkachin. But those had only been theoretical conversations, something pulled from their imagination, never said in a tone that was quite serious.

But as he walked through the afternoon traffic filled streets of Almaty, Otabek couldn’t help but think about the thing he hated most about their long distance relationship: the longing and the aching in his heart caused by how much he missed Yuri. It wasn’t always on the forefront of his mind, the aching sometimes nothing more than a dull echo in the distance, but it never truly left despite all their texts and conversations. Sure, he loved staying up half the night listening to Yuri going on about Mila doing something or another, Yakov screaming at him when he couldn’t get his shit together, or Victor and Yuuri being gross even if they were half a world away, but it just wasn’t the same. Seeing Yuri through a screen was no match to having him right beside him within reach.

During days when he missed Yuri more than usually, Otabek was thankful for his ability to throw himself into long on-ice practice hours with Anton, or alone outside of his regularly scheduled time. There was something calming about the burning of his muscles after trying a quad for the nth time or the aching of his feet after hours on the ice with his laces done as tightly as possible.

Halfway toward his apartment Otabek heard his phone ring in his pocket with a familiar tune–a custom tiger roar Yuri insisted to have as text notification, because of course he would. Eagerly he pulled out his phone curious to see what Yuri wanted. The second his eyes landed on the text he felt his heart sink in disappointment.

_Yura: Have to move tonight’s call to tomorrow. Victor insists I spend the evening with them so we can discuss my FS. Sorry._

That text seemed oddly out of character for Yuri, even if only due to the lack of complaining about Victor and the fact that Yuri actually used his name. Victor and Yuuri had flown in from Japan a week prior specifically for Yuri, to help him with his new routines, and because Victor missed Russia. With a sigh Otabek put his phone back into his pocket and wished he could be back at the rink to shut out his sadness with skating, try that quad again that Aisulu had so nicely pointed out had a sloppy landing, or just do lazy figure eights to ease his mind. Maybe it was stupid, a simple text making him sad, but that was how feelings worked sometimes.

This wouldn’t be a problem if they would live together, Otabek thought and could almost hear Aisulu’s voice in his mind. The weeks he’d spent with Yuri in St. Petersburg at his flat had been wonderful, blissful even, a preview of what their life could look like if they were to live together properly. He could wake up and fall asleep with Yuri by his side every day, could make him breakfast on mornings when Yuri was especially moody and groggy, take naps together on his sofa in the living room after particularly long and exhausting days at the rink while watching something on Netflix, or even do something as boringly mundane as go grocery shopping together.

Just as Otabek was about to get ready for bed hours later, his phone rang once more. For just a moment he let himself hope that maybe it was Yuri telling him that he fled Victor’s place and wanted to talk after all, but then remembered that the sound wasn’t right. He frowned, equal parts confused and surprised, to find a text from his coach asking him to come to the rink. It was already past ten pm, which seemed like a suspicious time for practice, even for Anton who was a self-proclaimed night owl. But, knowing him, there was no arguing.

Inside he was met with utter silence, which made sense considering public hours were long over and no one usually came in to practice at these times. Only the most essential lights were on in the entrance hall and the hallways leading to the locker rooms and to the ice giving the entire place an almost haunted, eerie feeling. Otabek wasn’t one to get scared by darkness or silence, so he merely shrugged and went to change his shoes for his skates before going down the hallway toward the rink.

As he stepped into the arena the lack of light confused him. The overhead lights above the ice were off bathing most of the room in utter darkness disrupted only by the weakly glowing red emergency exit lights above the doors and the bit simmering in from the hallway, nothing else. Looking around he couldn’t see anyone, not even Anton, which started to make him nervous. He was the one who wanted him to be there in the first place, so where the hell was he?

His heart almost did a quad of its own as music began to play over the speakers, music that definitely didn’t belong to any of his playlists or programs. A lone piano joined by a note or two from a guitar, stripped back and calm, a female voice he didn’t recognize.

A single overhead light turned on right above the middle of the rink falling straight onto a figure dressed all in black with his back turned toward Otabek. Even from afar he would recognize that body and long blond hair anywhere.

_Yuri Plisetsky._

Slowly Yuri began to move right in tact with the music and fitting perfectly with the raw and honest atmosphere of it, the words talking about trust and some metaphor about glitter. Lazy glides turned into a camel spin melting into Yuri’s signature Biellman spin—how Yuri managed to pull that one off despite being twenty-two and taller than he used to be at fifteen still baffled and amazed Otabek even though he’d seen it so many times—and was followed by a quad salchow like it was nothing, the easiest move of all.

Even while performing just for him, Yuri wasn’t playing games or giving a half-assed performance. Whatever this was, a planned choreography or maybe just Yuri purely improvising, it would win him a gold medal at any competition he’d want because it was just that good, the execution flawless and his performance oozing raw emotions almost as though Yuri had stripped bare and showed his deepest feelings, no bullshit, no secrets, the vulnerable side of Yuri that only Otabek got to see. It reminded Otabek a little of Katsuki’s FS from years ago that depicted his life and his love for Nikiforov.

No, this was different, intimate and private, something just between them, just for Otabek and no one else, like a secret. Like his ‘Oblivion’ piece years ago, but without the audience and TV cameras.

As the music continued Otabek just stood there, his lips slightly parted in surprise and admiration for the younger man’s performance and skills. Every move of Yuri’s arms and legs gave way to the next one, a continuous stream like that of a river, fluid and natural, executed with impossible grace. Yuri’s eyes were soft, a small smile on his lips, his face unguarded and free. He looked like beautiful poetry or a sky full of stars, captivating and haunting. Otabek wouldn’t be able to take his eyes off of him even if he wanted.

‘Have you ever been touched so gently you had to cry?’ the singer asked and Otabek wanted to say _yes_. No one had ever touched him the way Yuri had, both physically and emotionally, a sensation so unbelievable he sometimes wondered if it was real.

How was he just this lucky? How was it possible that out of all the people there were, Yuri had chosen him? Whatever had done it, he was endlessly thankful because looking at him almost floating across the ice Otabek couldn’t imagine how anyone could possibly love another person more than he loved Yuri.

With a smile and blush dusted cheeks Yuri skated to the entrance and stretched out his hand toward Otabek, both an invitation and a request. It was perfectly timed with the lyrics, ‘have you ever felt this way?’ the singer asked. _Only with you_ , Otabek wanted to say but didn’t.

After a moment, once he remembered how to properly use his limbs, Otabek took his hand and followed Yuri onto the ice after quickly removing his blade guards. It was fairly apparent that Yuri’s plan ended the moment Otabek joined him because there was no more choreography, instead just lazy figure eights and spins done together, moves they knew thanks to the ice shows and their pair skate, and hours spent practicing them just for fun like lovesick fools.

“Surprise,” Yuri whispered while skating around Otabek, his hand wandering from his right shoulder, across his back and the nape of his neck, and then over onto his left shoulder sending a shiver down Otabek’s spine.

Otabek wanted to ask what he was doing here, how he’d made this happen—especially considering how Yakov reacted the last time Yuri decided to fly to Almaty on a whim—and how much he had to bribe Anton into allowing for all of this, but instead he just continued to look at Yuri in awe and wonder, his bottle green eyes seemingly endless and lightly sparkling, the most beautiful eyes Otabek had ever seen and ever wanted to see. Somehow it still hadn’t quite registered in his mind that Yuri was actually there right in front of him.

“Is this how you greet your boyfriend after we’ve been apart for two months, Beka?” Yuri asked, his voice low, barely a whisper. Otabek hadn’t even noticed that the music ended and the only noises filling the air around them were their blades against the ice and Yuri’s slight panting. There was a particular glisten in Yuri’s eyes and an edge to his smile that told Otabek that Yuri was very much satisfied with himself and Otabek’s reaction.

Instead of saying anything, not that he would be able to say something even if he wanted, Otabek pulled Yuri closer to himself, one arm around his waist the other on his neck, fingers disappearing in Yuri’s long silky hair. For a moment they just looked into each other’s eyes, time seemingly stopping all around them, before their lips touched and Otabek decided that he was sick of being apart from Yuri, that he didn’t want to miss this anymore, wanted to have the younger man by his side every morning when he woke up and every evening before he fell asleep and all the hours in-between.

“Мен сені сүйемін,“ Otabek said once their lips parted and he found his voice. It made Yuri smile that particular smile he knew was just for him, a wordless declaration of happiness, understanding, genuine feelings, and love.

“Otabek Altin.” He’d always loved the way Yuri said his name, though he rarely used his full one, usually sticking to just his first name or Beka. “Hero of Kazakhstan and love of my life.” The softness of Yuri’s words, barely more than a whisper loud enough for them to hear it, intimate and affectionate, made Otabek’s heart flutter and his knees weak, something for which Yuri would usually call him out as sap.

Slowly Yuri took Otabek’s hands into his, raised them to his face and lightly kissed them, a subtle gesture that spoke volumes, so innocent and peaceful, a stark contrast to the side of Yuri everyone else usually got to witness. Otabek wanted to say something, but he could see that Yuri had a plan and didn’t want to interfere with it. He could feel Yuri’s hands lightly trembling making him wonder why he was nervous all of a sudden.

“You were my first friend, my first best friend at that, the best one anyone could wish for,” Yuri began, the blush returning onto his cheeks and his lips lightly pulled into a vulnerable smile. “My first crush and love, my first kiss and my first boyfriend. All my firsts have been with you and after more than six years I could not imagine how any of it could’ve possibly been better because you made all of it perfect. You love me for who I am, loved me at my lowest and my highest, and honestly I am about to cry even though none of this is sad, god damn it.” He laughed then and bit his lower lip. “What I’m trying to say is that I love you, more than any person ever before and any person ever will. You make me happy in ways no one else ever has, you make me smile and laugh. You are honestly the best thing that has ever happened to me.”

Yuri paused for a moment, let go of one of Otabek’s hands and raised it to his face. He hadn’t even noticed that he started to cry until Yuri wiped away a tear from his cheek, his touch so soft and careful it only made him want to cry more.

“When I was a kid I asked grandpa how he knew that grandma was the one,” Yuri continued, his hand still resting against Otabek’s cheek, their eyes locked. “He said that whenever he thought of his future, no matter how much he tried, he couldn’t see a version of which she wasn’t part of and that was how he knew. When I think of the future, Beka, every single version of it contains you.”

Otabek realized just then where this speech was going, the fact hitting him like a truck in the best way possible. Part of him wondered if Aisulu somehow knew about this and if that’d been why she’d asked him all those questions, wanted to talk about his relationship and plans for the future.

Yuri’s words were beautiful, lightly shaky around the edges but so incredibly honest it made his heart ache. Years ago when he fell in love with Yuri, he never would’ve expected to find himself right there at his home rink standing on the ice while the love of his life was proposing to him.

“Yesterday I was at your families house,” Yuri continued. “And asked your parents for their blessing. I can’t even tell you how afraid I was that they would say no, and then wondered just how much they would hate me if I would’ve still asked you. Your family really loves you and they gave me their permission. I swear I even saw your father smile before I left, it was crazy, a moment for the history books.”

Otabek couldn’t help but smile himself, moved be the fact that Yuri actually went and talked to his family, that he’d really planned this and that he wanted to do this, take the next step in their relationship. His heart was about to give out and the tears now running down both their faces did not help.

“You make me feel at home, make me feel safe no matter where I am or what I do, as long as you're there with me I know I will be okay,” Yuri continued after a moment of collecting himself. “Thanks to you I know that, even though I'm the last person in my family that's still alive, I do have a family, that I'm not alone. And although I don't need a ring to prove it, or your last name printed next to mine on my ID or passport, I'd still very much like it.” Yuri paused again and took one last shaky breath. “So I’m asking you, Otabek Timuruly Altin, love of my life, will you marry me?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Every time I read this I just need a moment. *cough* I think I've written at least two versions of this chapter, this one is definitely the way better one than the original I wrote literally weeks ago. I loved writing this chapter, so I hope you liked it, too. :)
> 
> So any thoughts? I greatly appreciate every comment and kudos you guys leave me. It truly helps me stay motivated and write more chapters, make them better each time. :)


	17. for him. (Age 22)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title song: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QaGncqPtWzE
> 
> not beta'd.

When Yuri was fifteen he called the ring Yuuri gave to Victor garbage simply because he couldn’t understand how a simple piece of jewelry could hold so much meaning and seem so much more important to them than skating. He’d watched Victor stare at the ring for hours, show it off like his most prized possession worth more than all his gold medals combined, like that ring held all the answers he ever looked for in life. Back then Yuri didn’t understand shit.

Now, seven years later, he almost felt like picking up his phone and apologizing, even though that was totally stupid. Knowing Victor he already forgot all about it so why even bother.

“Earlier today I finally told Victor and Yuuri,” Yuri said, his phone held up in front of him with Skype open while he stood in the living room and looked out of the window.

“And?” Otabek asked. He sat on his bed, his laptop probably propped up on his legs while his back rested against the headboard. His hair was beautifully disheveled from when he tried his best to towel dry it a moment earlier, his chest distractingly bare.

“I’m pretty sure they had to pull their shit together like never before so they wouldn’t cry, as if it’d be the first time I’d see them cry. Those idiots constantly find reasons for it, no matter what I do. But they said they’re happy for us, proud of me that I finally understand love.”

“They love you so it’s no surprise,” Otabek said with a smile.

“Victor also held me a literal live minute lecture about how dare I go and do something major like that before consulting them, like they have any sort of say in what I do or don't do with my life. Also who are they to talk, it’s not like Yuuri told me he would propose to Victor before he did it so like what the fuck.” Yuri lightly shook his head. Years ago he would’ve cursed up a storm against those two idiots, but now he almost found their behavior strangely endearing, even though he’d rather die than get caught voicing that thought. “They should be happy I told them at all instead of having to find out through Instagram, Mila or Yakov.”

“Speaking of which, Mila texted me earlier today.”

“Why?” Yuri knew they were friends and talked sometimes, a side effect of hanging out at the rink when Otabek was in St. Petersburg all those times in the past, but there was something about the way Otabek said that, that made Yuri want to angry text her immediately.

“Basically she told me that should I ever dare to break your heart she will personally break every single bone in my body.”

With a groan Yuri leaned forward until his forehead met glass with a thud. Why did all the people in his life have to be just this fucking embarrassing and dramatic? What had he done to deserve this? Sure, he was aware that Mila only meant well but still. What actual the fuck?

“After she was done threatening me, she told me you look happier since you returned,” Otabek continued after a moment. “She said she actually saw you smile, which according to her was like seeing a unicorn or something. You know, I’m happy too.”

The softness with which Otabek spoke made Yuri’s knees feel strangely weak and his heart beat a little faster. Fuck he loved his voice, and every single other aspect of him. The thought that he was responsible for Otabek feeling happy made Yuri smile, feel strangely proud and warm inside, like for once he’d done something right.

“I went to the jeweler on my way home from the rink,” Yuri said and finally leaned away from the window again. Almost absentmindedly he looked down on his own hand, the slim white gold band with a single square Smokey Quartz embedded into it, the closest color he could get to Otabek’s eye color.

Otabek’s ring looked exactly the same but with a square Apatite, though it would probably annoy Yuri forever that the color was just a little too blue, but according to the jeweler it was the closest thing he could get because an Emerald would’ve been too green and too dark. It was the thought that counted, Yuri reminded himself. He would never, not in a million lifetimes, forget the expression on Otabek face when he saw the ring, like he’d never seen something so beautiful, and he’d gotten even more glossy eyed when Yuri told him what was up with the stone. If someone would dare tell Yuri he didn’t put a fuck ton of thoughts into the things he did he would honestly cut a bitch.

“The jeweler remembered me and asked with a laugh if I’d lost the original ring.” Yuri chuckled. “After I told him no, he was surprised that I asked for a different stone, and then asked me if I’m that ‘one figure skater’. Apparently his grandson is a fan of you, and me by proxy. Of course he immediately made the link between me, a ring and you so I practically had to bribe him into keeping his mouth shut.”

“What did you do?” Otabek raised an eyebrow with mild concern in his voice.

“I told him I would sue his ass if he even as much as dared mention my purchase to anyone.” A smug little smile slid onto Yuri’s face because honestly the face the jeweler had made had been fucking priceless. “And then, to not come across like a complete dick, I signed a picture of us in some magazine the dude had in the back of his shop.”

“You’re incorrigible,” Otabek said, his words affectionate, underlined by that small lopsided smile he sometimes showed that melted Yuri’s heart each time. “You should’ve seen Aisulu’s reaction to the ring. I literally had to take her phone away so she would listen to me as I tried my best to keep her away from posting at least seventeen pictures of it.”

“I saw the picture she posted instead,” Yuri said with a smile of his own. It was a nice picture in black and white that Aisulu had taken the previous summer of Otabek standing next to the pool in the Altin backyard with Yuri in his arms, his face caught between a laugh and a scream. What the picture didn’t show was the fact that a moment later Yuri landed in the water with a huge splash. “Hashtag relationship goals, huh?”

“I think we’re giving her way too big expectations.”

“At least she knows not to settle for any less than what we have, or Serik and his wife. Also her future boyfriends at least know what they have to live up to, and know what to prepare for should they break her heart.”

“I love you, Yura,” Otabek said in a sappy wave of emotions that made Yuri only smile more. Yuri knew how important Otabek’s family was to him and how happy it made him that Yuri was getting along with them so well, that he’d become friends with his siblings and somehow grown just as protective of Aisulu as Otabek and Serik. She was a good girl, deserved only the best so Yuri couldn’t help himself.

Yuri was protective of those he cared about, even if he sometimes had strange ways of showing it, and most people knew better than to cross him. Having a stone-faced intimidating looking leather jacket wearing and motorcycle driving _fiancé_ —holy actual fucking shit—definitely helped that image too.

“I love you too, Beka,” Yuri said and couldn’t help but blush a little. “By the way, look at that.” He turned around and walked over to the shelves secured to the wall near the TV. “I made some room for your pictures and medals.” He switched to the back camera of his phone to show off before wandering through the apartment to the bedroom. “Along with half the drawers, and I got some more hangers. And I cleared out some space in the bathroom, too. All that’s missing is for my assface of a landlord to exchange the nameplates on the door and send me a new version of the contract.”

“I’m impressed,” Otabek said once Yuri was done talking and walked back into the bedroom, his camera switched back to the front one. “When did you even manage to do all that?”

“Well I had to occupy myself somehow to not think about you finally moving in twenty four seven so I did all that instead. And I asked the landlord to give me that parking spot that comes with the place so you can park your bike there and not have to worry about it.”

Yuri felt proud of himself for actually getting everything done with time to spare. Usually he would just wait until the last minute, but this was too important and exciting to wait and procrastinate upon doing. Yuri still couldn’t believe the fact that this was actually finally happening, that Otabek would finally move in with him and everything they’d discussed and imagined across the years would finally be happening for real. Finally the apartment wouldn’t feel so lonely and empty anymore.

As Yuri sat down on his bed, Oxana came walking into the room and jumped into his lap demanding some attention with a loud meow. Absentmindedly Yuri began to pet her, his fingers running across her impossibly soft fur and scratching her chin just the way she liked it most.

“Speaking of bikes, are you really sure you want to drive all the way here?”

“Sure, why not?”

“Isn’t it like dangerous or some shit? Wouldn’t it be easier to ship it here along with the rest of your things?” Although Yuri knew that Otabek knew what he was doing, knew that he was an excellent driver and all that shit, the thought of him driving across Kazakhstan and Russia made him nervous, a feeling of unrest building beneath his skin.

“Are you worried about me?”

“Fucking obviously,” Yuri said, his voice serious. “How far is it actually? I know it’s fucking far but how’s that translate into numbers?”

Otabek thought about it for a moment. “If I make stops in Astana and Moscow it’s just over four thousand seven hundred kilometers.”

“Fuck,” Yuri said with a huff. Somehow that seemed even further than he imagined and made him dislike the idea even more. “Are you _really_ sure about this?”

“Remember Barcelona? I drove there on my bike, too, and it’s even further than St. Petersburg,” Otabek said and then yawned, his hand hiding his mouth. “So really, you don’t have to worry about me at all. I’ll be there in no time so enjoy the time you have left before you’ll have to live with me day and night.”

“You’re stupid,” Yuri said and shook his head. “If I wouldn’t want you here I wouldn’t have proposed so don’t even think shit like that.” Quickly he decided to change topics before Otabek could see just how worried he really was. “By the way, when is your stuff supposed to be delivered?”

“I sent it off yesterday so in two or three days, I think,” he said followed by another yawn. Yuri turned to look at the digital clock standing on his bedside table and quickly converted the time in his head like a reflex.

“You should really go to sleep, zhanym,” Yuri said, using that term of endearment he knew Otabek liked but rarely used. Immediately a sleepy smile appeared on Otabek’s face making Yuri’s heart flutter just a little. Fuck he was just so handsome and perfect it should be illegal.

“I’ll text you tomorrow before I’ll leave,” Otabek said. “Good night, suiktim.”

“Fucking sap,” Yuri murmured and shook his head. “Night, Beka. I love you.”

The next day Yuri woke up to the promised text from Otabek letting him know that he was about to leave Almaty. Yuri was sure he wouldn’t be able to concentrate on basically anything for the next four to five days until Otabek would make it safely to St. Petersburg. Luckily Yakov had ways to force Yuri into at least pretending to be focus on his skating, making him run through his programs again and again, practice his step sequences until he felt like his legs were made of pudding. Lilia wasn’t any better, her voice seemingly even sharper than usually, her commands shooting from her mouth like bullets.

During every break Yuri got in between, he pulled up the ‘Find Friends’ app on his phone. To grant Yuri some inner peace Otabek set his phone to share his location with Yuri’s so Yuri could trace his progress on the map, make sure Otabek was moving and thus alive and well. Seeing that little dot move actually did calm him down, at least somewhat. It didn’t make him any fonder of the four thousand fuck me up kilometers but he just had to suck it up and deal with it.

Never, not in a million years, would Yuri have thought that he would ever be just this invested in another person, that he could ever care and love another person enough that he felt like a lump was forming in his throat each time he thought of Otabek driving down the highway on his bike surrounded by reckless drivers. Yuri knew it made no difference if he worried or not, if he obsessively thought about it or not, but he couldn’t help it. Even though he struggled with admitting it during the best of times, he was afraid of losing Otabek.

Ever since Yuri first moved to St. Petersburg at age ten he’d built walls around himself, pushed anyone away who even as much as tried to get close to him. For years the only person he needed was himself. All his life had amounted to was skating and practice, fighting for this goal he had in his mind unwilling to give in to pain or complications no matter how much he missed home and his grandpa. He always had to be strong and independent, worthy of having the eyes of a soldier, but then Otabek happened and everything began to change, even more so after grandpa passed away.

Suddenly Yuri didn’t feel like he _had_ to be strong anymore, like he _had_ to fight on his own anymore. He realized, bit after bit, that he could have people in his life, accept that they cared about him, let them close to him no matter how much it scared him deep down. Falling in love had never been part of Yuri’s plan, but he didn’t regret it for a second, even if loving someone bore a certain risk. Life was full of twists and turns so there was no guarantee that happiness would be constant, that life would just be great at all times, that everything would work out in his favor. People were just human, people left, and people died.

His parents went first, then his grandma and then grandpa. Everyone in his family had left Yuri behind. Victor left for Yuuri, Mila had Sara, Georgi was off chasing the next woman, and Yuri had Otabek, though in moments like these he was endlessly afraid of losing him, the mere thought making him feel sick because he was the last person he truly had left.

Having these feelings felt so unlike Yuri, but he knew, on a logical level, that it was normal for him to feel this way, that it showed that he cared, but that didn’t make it less annoying and exhausting.

_Beka: Arrived at my hotel in Astana. Everything is okay. Missing you but soon we’ll be together._

That night Yuri slept more or less calmly knowing that Otabek was okay, that he made the first leg of his trip without a problem, though the real challenge was about to come. The way from Astana to Moscow was much further than from Almaty to Astana. So much more open road, so many more cars and insane Russian drivers, shitty cars and fucking trucks, so many more possibilities to get into an accident.

His foul mood didn’t go unnoticed by Mila, and Yuuri and Victor who checked in at least once a day. They all looked at him in that almost pitiful way that annoyed the living fuck out of Yuri. He didn’t need their fucking pity or reassuring words. What he did need was for the time to go by faster so this could all just be over and he could finally hold Otabek in his arms. Was that too much to ask for?

To everyone’s surprise Otabek documented parts of his journey through pictures on Instagram, his followers going haywire in response to just so much more activity than they were used to. Most of the pictures were of the sky, the horizon, pictures of the landscape taken over the handlebar of his bike and a rare selfie. The captions mostly read different numbers of kilometers getting smaller and smaller so it didn’t take long for people to figure out that his destination was St. Petersburg and thus Yuri.

 _Beka: Went to visit Nikolai. Brought new flowers and a candle. Heard you’ve been in a bad mood these past few days. I’m sorry. But I’ll be there tomorrow so we’ve almost made it. Been thinking about you, a lot, about everything you said during your proposal. I hope you know I feel the same way about you, that_ you _are my family, the person that owns my heart for however long you’ll want to keep it, this lifetime and the next. Can’t wait to finally kiss you again, wake up and fall asleep with you. Just a little while longer._

“Fuck,” Yuri quietly said to his empty bedroom as he read that text, his heart squeezing and aching in the best way possible, the feeling of being loved surging through him like warmth on a cold winters day.

Otabek was a fucking sap but Yuri loved it, more than he ever expected it. How was he able to make him feel this way just with words in a text? How was it possible that Otabek somehow loved him just this much?

“Tomorrow it’ll be over,” Yuri said and turned onto his side ready to fall asleep, make the time go by faster.

The next day during practice he was in a strangely positive mood, almost giddy even, excitement and anticipation running through him. During every break he went and checked the app again and again, his eyes following the dot coming closer and closer to the city. _Just a few more hours_. It reminded him of the time when he was sixteen and Otabek was flying in for the first time to spend two weeks with Yuri in St. Petersburg. He’d been so nervous even though, in the end, there was no reason for it. But he wanted Otabek to be his friend so badly, wanted to show him that he was worthy of his friendship and everything. Little did sixteen-year-old Yuri know where that friendship would lead him later down the road.

_Beka: Currently at a gas station. About three more hours and I’ll be there. Don’t worry if I disappear, my battery is about to run out. Love you._

“Is that a smile I see?” Mila asked sitting on the bench opposite to Yuri as they were taking off their skates. “Did the day finally come? No more moping?”

“I wasn’t moping, hag,” Yuri said but his voice lacked his usual bite. He was in too good of a mood to be angry or bitchy. Who would’ve thought that something like that was actually possible?

“Sure, kitten,” she said and then got up. “The smile suits you better than the scowl.” With that she turned around and walked out of the locker room.

Taking his time Yuri put his skates into his bag, put on his shoes and then left, too. Back at the apartment he took a quick shower, washed his hair to pass the time, and even blow-dried it, something he hated with a fiery passion during the summer.

Just like Otabek had predicted his phone must’ve died since the dot stopped moving about forty kilometers off from St. Petersburg. According to his text he should arrive in less than an hour so Yuri busied himself in the kitchen trying to come up with something to make for dinner. By the time he was done the three-hour mark had passed and still nothing.

 _Maybe he got stuck in traffic_ , Yuri argued with himself. It was highly likely, especially knowing the afternoon traffic and just how much of a nightmare it could be. Instead of panicking just yet, Yuri tried to occupy himself in some other way, deciding to tidy the kitchen, even though there really was nothing to tidy, along with the bedroom.

Once the four hours mark came and went Yuri really started to get worried.

“What if something happened?” he asked once Yuuri picked up his Skype call. “I mean, I’m sure he’s okay but still. Fuck, what is this? This is so not me. I’m not one of those assholes that sits around waiting and worrying like a fucking fool.”

“You’re not a fool, Yurio, for worrying about someone you love,” Yuuri said in that soft and calm way that only pissed Yuri off. As far as he could see Yuuri and Victor sat in their bedroom looking a little tired, which made sense considering it was six hours later for them than for Yuri.

“It just shows that you care,” Victor added. “But I’m sure he is just fine. You know the city and traffic. How often did we get stuck in traffic on the way to the airport and Yakov almost had a stroke worrying that we wouldn’t make our flight?”

Maybe they were right, maybe Yuri worried for no reason. And maybe it really didn’t make him a fool. Surely Otabek would worry just as much if their roles were reversed and he’d be the one to drive just that fucking far. Just like they’d both said, they were each other’s family, not quite officially yet but who gave a fuck. Otabek was the only family Yuri had, not counting Yuuri and Victor about whom he cared more than he let on but that was something completely different. He liked and respected them, enjoyed spending time with them and knew he could ask them for advice if he ever needed help.

Otabek on the other hand was home, his anchor, the love of his life and damn he would lose his fucking mind if something were to happen to him or, even worse, he were to lose him completely. He’d already lost too many people.

About an hour later Yuri’s phone started to furiously ring, the caller ID a number Yuri didn’t know. Maybe Otabek’s bike broke down and he’d managed to borrow someone’s phone to let Yuri knew that he was okay?

Yuri almost dropped his phone as a female voice introduced herself and told him that she was calling from a hospital in central St. Petersburg. Maybe he hadn’t worried for nothing, maybe his worst nightmare was about to come to life after all. _Fuck_.

Quicker than it should be possible Yuri stormed out of the apartment and made his way to the hospital. His taxi driver got more and more annoyed as Yuri barked at him to go faster, but Yuri didn’t give a single flying fuck.

An annoyed looking lady told him where he needed to go once he arrived and directed him to some doctor who supposedly took care of Otabek. The entire scene reminded Yuri way too much of the time he was at the hospital in Moscow with his grandpa and just how well that ended. If history was about to repeat itself Yuri would fucking die on the spot at twenty-two, or at least have a complete meltdown, no matter how fucking dramatic it sounded.

“Mr. Plisetsky, yes, the fiancé?” the doctor asked once Yuri finally managed to track him down. He was some tall chubby dude with a crooked nose and eyes that seemed too big for his face, his voice obnoxiously deep. “Thank you for coming so fast.”

“Of course,” Yuri said, slightly out of breath, his heart beating so fast it almost hurt. “How is he? What happened?”

“Mr. Altin was in an accident,” the doctor said and Yuri’s heart sunk only more. Yuri had been there before, his parents had been in an accident too and didn’t return home after that. “Another driver disregarded a red light and collided with Mr. Altin. Luckily his motorcycle sustained more damage than him, nothing more than a few cuts and scrapes. He will be okay in no time. You can take him back home once we’re done with our checkup to make sure he’s okay otherwise. He was truly lucky.”

Yuri closed his eyes and slowly let out a deep shaky breath. Everything was okay. No one was dying, no broken bones, no career ending injuries. Thank _fuck_. Yuri had never felt so damn relieved in his entire life.

“Beka,” Yuri said as he walked into the patient room filled with six beds, three on either side. Otabek sat on the bed in the middle on the left side. His jacket hung over the chair standing next to the bed along with a few others of his possessions.

Otabek looked up as he heard Yuri with almost something like guilt in his eyes. There were bandages wrapped around his arms and his left pant leg was torn, another bandage wrapped around his leg just beneath his knee.

“Yura,” he said just as Yuri wrapped his arms around him, pulling him into a tight hug.

“You’re such a fucking idiot, Beka,” Yuri said and almost felt like crying. He probably would if people didn’t surround them, all eyes on them. “I was so fucking worried!”

“I’m so sorry. I was driving as careful as I could and then suddenly that car appeared out of nowhere and before I could do anything I was already on the ground.”

“Fuck,” Yuri said almost breathlessly before pulling back to look at him. Slowly he moved his hands onto Otabek’s cheeks. “At least you’re here and you’re fine. I have no idea what I would’ve done if something would’ve happened to you. I was so afraid…”

Instead of saying anything Otabek moved just enough to kiss Yuri, ignoring the people around them, because in that moment nothing mattered besides the fact that they were finally together, and that Otabek was okay, that he was as good as home. The kiss wasn’t deep or long, a brief touch of lips but it was enough to ease some of the tension out of Yuri.

“Yura, don’t cry,” Otabek said, his voice quiet and low in that soothing way he knew worked wonders to calm Yuri down. “It’s okay. I’m okay.”

“I know,” Yuri said, though until Otabek had mentioned it he hadn’t even realized that there were tears in his eyes. “Fuck, I’m so stupid and lame.”

“If someone’s stupid than it’s me, not you. I was in an accident, not you.”

“But it wasn’t your fault, while me crying like a fucking idiot is my fault. Damn it.”

“It doesn’t make you an idiot, Yura,” Otabek said, his hands taking Yuri’s off of his face so he could hold them. “It just shows that you care. You don’t have to be tough all the time. It’s okay to be human, even if you are the Ice Tiger of Russia. Tigers also have feelings, you know.”

“Just promise me you won’t do that again.” It was pathetic but damn it, sue him.

“I’ll try my best.” At that Yuri managed to coax a smile onto his face. Usually he loved having a fiancé that drove a badass bike and everything, but in moments like this he absolutely hated it. No matter how cool it was, bikes were that much more dangerous than cars. Damn it, he was getting soft and sappy, almost as bad as fucking Victor and Yuuri.

Just like the doctor said Yuri took Otabek home a few hours later. Yuri felt relieved and tired once they walked into the apartment. Otabek had finally made it home and they were finally together just like Yuri had wished for it across the past four days.

Dinner was long cold, of course, but Yuri quickly heated it up again so they could eat, shower and then fall into the bed to sleep. Even though he hadn’t done much Yuri felt exhausted, ready for the day to be over, so not long after he curled up against Otabek, he drifted off into sleep surrounded by the steady beating of Otabek’s heart and his calm, even breathing.

This wasn’t how Yuri had imagined Otabek’s first night at home, but it didn’t matter.

The following morning Yuri woke up even before his alarm went off with Otabek’s arm draped over his middle. Yuri quietly sighed content, warm and happy, despite how early it was. For a moment he wondered if he should just stay in bed that little while longer, bask in Otabek’s warmth, but ultimately decided against it.

As carefully as he could Yuri slipped out of bed, turned off his alarm so it wouldn’t wake up Otabek, and then just looked back at the bed for a moment. Otabek looked so peaceful as he slept, his hair nothing more than a mess, half of it falling across his face, and one bandaged leg sticking out from under the light satin blanket they had shared. Yuri had to use all his willpower to make himself walk out of the room and quietly close the door behind him.

Oddly enough, even though he slept less than in the past few days, he looked much more awake and alive. Sure, his hair was tangled and sticking out in every possible direction and a pillow crease ran across his left cheek, but still he looked rested even though that basically made no sense at all.

After brushing his teeth and taming his hair, Yuri walked into the kitchen to make coffee. While he waited for the machine to get its shit together, Yuri put food into Oxana’s bowl and replaced her water, and then pulled out his phone to check if he’d missed anything interesting in the night.

“Shit,” he hissed a little louder than he intended as he noticed the wall of notifications covering his lock screen. There were text messages, twitter and Instagram notifications, and missed calls. Scrolling through everything Yuri settled on a link Victor had sent him that led to an article of some sorts.

’10 Reasons why we’re happy that the Fairy of Russia and the Hero of Kazakhstan seem to be settling down’ it read and boy did it piss off Yuri like nothing before. His levels of anger only grew as he actually scrolled through that ‘article’. Apparently some of his stupid asshole fans had seen him and Otabek leave the hospital the previous evening, taken a million and one picture, and of course they had to notice the rings, because of fucking course. That was just Yuri’s luck. Never could anything go fucking his way. _Ugh!_

There went his plan of being in control over how and when they’d announce their engagement, if they would announce it at all or instead just show up at the Grand Prix qualifiers pretending like nothing happened just to watch the press go up in flames. Of course his fucking Angels had to ruin everything.

Of course Yuri didn’t mind that people knew, he would actually marry fucking Otabek Altin which already meant that his life was a billion times better than anyone else’s, but he very much minded that the world found out this way. Somehow he would’ve preferred Phichit screaming it at a restaurant full of strangers instead of the press blasting it across the Internet like nobodies fucking business.

They could’ve at least fucking asked first instead of writing those stupid articles.

“Everything okay?” Otabek asked sounding still half asleep. Yuri hadn’t even noticed him coming into the kitchen. “You look mad.”

“That’s probably because I _am_ fucking mad,” Yuri said as he leaned against the counter behind him, closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths. He needed to calm the fuck down. “Read this.” Without any further explanation he held his phone toward Otabek, or at least in his general direction.

“Do I now get to declare my happiness to the world?” was Otabek’s reaction to the article. Yuri let out a huff of air and slowly opened his eyes again while turning his head enough to look at him more than confused.

“You’re not mad about this?” he asked just a little perplexed by the lack of annoyance on Otabek’s face.

“It won’t change anything.” He shrugged and handed Yuri his phone back. “So why be mad over something we can’t change when we can instead be happy and just enjoy not having to keep it a secret anymore.”

“You’re way too fucking rational and calm.”

“One of us has to be,” he said and pulled Yuri toward him, his hands on Yuri’s waist.

“Whatever,” Yuri said with a sigh because he knew Otabek was right. There was nothing they could do, and Yuri didn’t even want to, actually. People knew Otabek was his and vice versa, and somehow that thought in and of itself wasn’t that bad after all.

“I love you, okay?” Otabek said calmly while pushing a strand of Yuri’s hair behind his ear. “The only thing that matters is that we’re happy, that we’re together and that I can refer to you as my fiancé. Everything else doesn’t matter. If the press feels the need to run dumb articles about this, let them, who cares. The only opinions that matter are those of our friends and my family, and all of them are happy for us, so what more could we ask for, hm?”

"Yeah, you're probably right," Yuri admitted even though being angry would be so much easier and it came so much more naturally to him. But the pictures and news was out, nothing to do about it besides embracing it. "How are you, like after what happened yesterday?"

"Now that I'm here with you, I'm great." Yuri would never get over how genuine he sounded as he said that.

"Fucking sap," Yuri said with a smile he couldn't force of his face even if he wanted, a small blush appearing on his face.

“Let’s take a picture,” Otabek said and reached for Yuri’s phone lying behind him on the counter. The touch ID unlocked the phone a second later, a picture of a smiling Otabek from three months prior looking back at him from Yuri’s background.

“But I look like shit,” Yuri whined in minimal protest before moving closer toward Otabek. Yuri turned his head enough so his face was hidden behind his hair, his hands resting on Otabek’s shoulder, one curled just right so the ring was visible.

Otabek’s hand rested on the small of Yuri’s back pushing him even closer, though no one would even see that, while the other one held up Yuri’s phone, the artificial shutter going off a moment later after Otabek lightly kissed Yuri’s forehead.

“Just don’t write some sappy caption,” Yuri said after kissing Otabek properly and returning to doing what he actually came for—make coffee. In the corner of his eye he could see a smirk appear on Otabek’s lips, foreboding nothing good, while he made his way through Instagram, typed in a caption and hit post.

 **otabek-altin:** When life gives you a Tiger, you’ve basically won. @yuri-plisetsky #fiance #thistigerismine #relationshipgoals #isaidyes

View all 67 comments

 **phichit+chu** OMG CONGRATULATIONS!!

 **leo-de-la-iglesia** cheers bro! Lookin’ happy! ;)

 **jjleroy!15** who would’ve thought you’d actually manage to tame the angry kitten. Congratulations!

 **yuri-plisetsky @jjleroy!15**  FUCK OFF

 **king-jj** nvm. He’ll never change.

 **v-katsuki-nikiforov @y-katsuki-nikiforov** OUR SON IS GETTING MARRIED! CONGRATULATIONS! We’re so happy and proud of you! Welcome to the family, Otabek!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> zhanym - Kazakh - my soul  
> suiktim - Kazakh - old-fashioned term of endearment meaning my dear.
> 
> I swear I've rewritten the ending of this chapter like 5 times because I couldn't come up with a good one until I came up with the picture (and rewrote that like 5 times too). Also the rings I picked for Yuri and Otabek are actually real (but I've lost the link...) and it took me like an hour to decide on the stones because I have no clue about gemstones hah. Also picking a song for this chapter was so hard for some reason? I considered songs by Bring Me The Horizon, Death Cab For Cutie, and like three different Troye Sivan songs.
> 
> Also, as you can see this story is now considered part of a series because I'm considering writing a sequel of what happens after chapter 20, basically the life after the ice. Would you guys be interested in that? I have like a bunch of ideas so if you'd want to read it, let me know :)
> 
> So any thoughts? I greatly appreciate every comment and kudos you guys leave me. It truly helps me stay motivated and write more chapters, make them better each time. :)


	18. Собирай меня (Age 23)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title song: https://youtu.be/nMeyJ0yeVyM
> 
> This is one of my favorite Russian songs so I couldn't pass up the opportunity to use it.
> 
> Also I'm sorry in advance.
> 
> not beta'd.

All spring and summer this thought had haunted Otabek’s mind like an obsession, an itch he couldn’t scratch no matter how much he tried to do it, push it down and force it away for a little longer, march on just a little more, but he knew that he was reaching it. The breaking point, and no matter how much he wanted to deny it, even to himself, the aching of his joints and his back was growing louder and louder, so loud he could barely hear anything else on certain days. And he knew it wouldn’t go away.

The day he started he knew there would come a day it would all end. Everything had an expiration date, especially the career of a competitive figure skater. But the knowledge that it could end one day didn’t make the realization that that day could be sooner rather than later any easier.

He so badly wanted for it to be different, for the time to not be just yet, but he knew the end was nearing and it hurt. It hurt even more to think of voicing any of this to anyone.

Their bedroom was softly illuminated by the silver moonlight coming in through their closed, but obviously useless, curtains and occasionally disrupted by their neighbor’s kitchen light across the street. The silence was infinite and merely disturbed by quiet breathing and the hammering of Otabek’s heart. He knew Yuri wasn’t asleep yet, learned the way he sounded when he did across all those years he spent sleeping next to him. It could’ve been so easy to just say something, anything, share his thought but how could he?

The ring around his finger suddenly felt too tight, too heavy for his hand, a reminder that these thoughts were ones he most definitely should share with the person lying next to him, the very one that had given the ring to him and asked him to share a lifetime. They weren’t married yet but they would be soon enough.

Otabek’s heart squeezed once more, a bitter contrast between the positivity, hope and endless comfort the ring was giving him, and the painful negativity the thoughts in his mind were hammering across his heart, dark shadows following wherever he went, tainting every nice thought.

“Yura,” Otabek said, a whisper just loud enough that he knew Yuri would hear it if he really wasn’t asleep just yet.

Groggily, and with half his hair covering his face, Yuri raised his head off of his pillow to look at him. With his left hand he swiped his hair away and his face melted into a half confused and half concerned expression.

“What is it?” he asked, his voice almost uncharacteristically calm and soft.

“There’s something I need to tell you.” Otabek practically chocked on his own words coming up through his throat like razors. After everything they’d been through, why was this so hard? Yuri would understand, knew the reality of their life just as well as Otabek, knew the end would come one day.

Yuri moved again, ran his hand across his face as though to magically make his sleepiness go away and then sat up, turned around enough to face Otabek easily, his eyes marked by concern. Even with pillow creases running across his cheeks and his hair nothing more than a blond nest on his head he still looked beautiful, sharp graceful edges and eyes piercing and filled with fire, the most captivating bottle green color Otabek had ever seen, eyes he wouldn’t be able to forget even if he tried.

Yuri had changed over the years, had lost the childlike roundness and a mouth that seemed to run faster than his brain, his face a work of art, a masterpiece of cheekbones others would kill for, lips pink and pouty, inviting and tempting, cheeks that turned the most unforgettable rose whenever he blushed, and eyebrows so expressive he barely needed words to communicate whatever was going on in his mind.

Otabek’s words would break his heart and he desperately wished he wouldn’t have to say them, that he could put them in a bag and drown them in the ocean never to be seen again, but that was impossible.

“I’m going to retire,” he finally said, the words hanging in the air between them making Otabek feel like he’d just pulled a trigger.

“What?” Yuri asked and blinked as though he hadn’t understood or like he was convinced he must’ve heard him incorrectly.

“I’m going to retire, Yura,” he repeated. It didn’t hurt any less the second time around. “My body won’t hold up much longer and I don’t want to break out there beyond repair.”

Silence. Deafening and eardrum shattering silence. A contradiction so logic defying that Otabek could swear time had literally stopped and he lost the ability to move, to think, to speak. His heart was beating so hard it almost hurt and he wondered if Yuri could hear it.

Yuri just looked at him, his eyes barely blinking, unmoving and merciless, green looking into brown, and Otabek desperately wanted to say something, anything, take back what he said or explain himself, but he couldn’t. All he could do was continue looking into those eyes wishing he could drown in them, avoid the rest of this moment, this conversation.

Otabek had seen Yuri cry many times over the years ranging anywhere between tears of utter despair and unimaginable joy, yet it never got easier. Quite frankly it only got harder, especially in moments like this when Yuri’s face didn’t move, not a muscle twitching, when tears pooled in his eyes and spilled over, ran down his cheeks and then onto their bed. How was it possible that he even looked beautiful as he cried? And just how big of an asshole did it make him that he thought just that, especially because those tears were his fault.

“So this is it.” Was that a question? A statement? Both? Otabek had no idea and was too afraid to ask for clarification. “You’re done. You’ve made your decision. How long have you known and not said a thing? Why didn’t you at least tell _me_?”

He didn’t sound angry or accusingly. No, it was far worse than that. He simply sounded sad.

“I could see it, you know, you’ve been aching more lately but you never said a thing,” Yuri continued, his voice quiet but wavering just enough around the edges to make Otabek’s heart bleed. “I’ve been wondering about it but I was sure you’d tell me. Don’t you…trust me?”

“Yura, what are you talking about?” He had it all wrong and Otabek wanted to explain it but his tongue felt too big for his mouth and his words died before he could say them. It was frustrating and awful, so much worse than he though it would be. “Of course I trust you, more than anyone ever. You’re the only person I told about this, hell I didn’t even want to know about it myself.”

“So why didn’t you say something sooner?” The tears kept on coming but still Yuri’s hands remained in his lap completely motionless. Maybe they were frozen in time after all, maybe it was just a bad dream he could wake up from and not have this conversation, but that wasn’t realistic.

Finally Otabek moved, raised his hand, slowly enough to give Yuri time to decide if he wanted to stop him or not, and lightly placed it on Yuri’s jaw, his thumb softly swiping away his tears. He never wanted to make Yuri cry yet he’d done just that. Yuri closed his eyes then and leaned into his touch, his own silent way of letting him know that he was probably furious and sad and disappointed but not enough to push him away.

“Because saying it out loud makes it real and I desperately wanted it to not be,” Otabek said, honestly. Yuri would understand, he knew he would, but it would take time.

“So last season, that was it, was it? I’ll never get to share the podium with you again?”

That was it, the moment Otabek himself couldn’t hold back his own tears anymore.

“One more Grand Prix and then I’ll go,” he said. He’d been trying to decide between that and a full season, mulled over that thought for a while in weaker moments when he allowed himself to think about this at all. Three competitions seemed doable enough; he could do it, win three more medals and then leave on a high note just like he promised himself when he first stepped onto the ice for his first figure skating lesson.

“Beka.” Never had he heard that name being said charged with so many emotions, so many meanings. It felt like an apology, acceptance, disapproval, love, sadness, and about a hundred other things all at once, unexplainable yet tangible.

Yuri pushed his hand aside than and Otabek immediately wondered if that was it, all his worst fears coming to life, but luckily it was just in his head. Instead of getting up and leaving like he feared, Yuri moved closer and put his arms around him, pulled him into a tight hug. He could feel Yuri shivering even though it was summer and definitely a few degrees too hot inside despite their best efforts.

“I love you,” Yuri murmured and pulled back enough to look at Otabek. All he could do was look into those eyes and listen, hope for the best. “Fuck, I love you more than I thought it was humanly possible. I fucking hate this so bad I really want to punch something, but I understand it, I do. This is the inevitable end and I can respect your choice to end it on your terms because that is what I want to do too once my time will come.

“And I know that no matter how much _I_ hate this, _you_ hate it far more. The ice has been a part of us for so long I can barely remember my life before. But this isn’t about me. This is about you, your choice and your life. I will support you even if the thought of you leaving the ice breaks my heart, but I’d rather watch you go then see you fall unable to get back up again.”

A quiet sob ripped through Otabek because how was it possible for Yuri Plisetsky, the skater with the worst attitude and temper in recent figure skating history, to simultaneously be just this impossibly caring and understanding? How was it possible that he hadn’t sworn him out, showcased that colorful language everyone knew he possessed, but instead he said just that, words so raw and real Otabek barely believed he actually had said them? No matter how hard his shell might’ve looked like from the outside, Otabek knew that the inside was loving, caring, understanding and supportive, sometimes in strange ways but there nonetheless.

He made all the right choices, that was clear, and no matter what people claimed, he knew that Yuri wasn’t an asshole even if everyone else thought he was. Yuri had matured so much across the years, turned into a different yet just as stunning person, and changed Otabek along the way, too.

“One more Grand Prix, three more medals followed by a golden ring and a promise of forever,” Yuri added and Otabek swore he just fell in love with him all over again.

 

* * *

 

Yuri approached his first Grand Prix qualifier with a bittersweet taste in his mouth. He didn’t share it with Otabek, because that would’ve been too lucky, yet the mere fact that the season started and that in just a few weeks Otabek’s career would come to a close made him feel all kinds of things.

The Short Program came and went with Yuri leading the list. He wasn’t surprised since most of the skaters he was ‘friends’ with, or rather whom he considered worthy opponents, weren’t at Skate America. The only one there beside him was Guang-Hong, who didn’t pose much of a thread, even if he improved quite a bit over the years.

Stepping onto the ice for his Free Skate was somehow much harder. Of course no one besides him, Otabek, Yakov and Lilia, knew the meaning behind it, why he’d chosen that particular song with that particular title, but that somehow didn’t help.

“The next skater is representing Russia, Yuri Plisetsky,” the announcer said while Yuri skated a lazy lap while taking a few deep breaths. His costume was toned down a lot from what he usually wore, black pants and a few shades lighter jacket closed with a zipper and a flap going over it held closed by a series of silver buttons. It was aesthetically pleasing and fit his rather bleak mood.

As the first notes of Apocalyptica’s ‘Farewell’ filled the arena, Yuri began to move, the beginning rather slow, every move calculated and deliberate, every muscle flexed just right, his eyes and face pulled into a sorrow filled expression mixed with longing.

Otabek had shortened the song for him, since it was at least a minute too long, and made it a little more perfect than it already was. When the song had come up on Yuri’s playlist he’d known he had to skate to it, even if at that point he’d already started to work on a different choreography. Lilia was pissed when he told her that he didn’t want her choreography anymore, that he would make his own one no matter if it was short notice and could go wrong in all sorts of way. Once he’d explained why, she understood and gave in.

Yuri won Skate America and took silver at NHK Trophy—he so hadn’t seen Seung-Gil coming with a new creepy ass focus and a choreography that was both mechanical and really fucking strangely fascinating—while Otabek went on to take gold at Skate Canada and bronze at the Rostelecom Cup—judging by the videos Yuri had seen, Otabek truly had to fight for that one, having a bad day during the FS with his joints aching more than usually. Now that he knew the pain was there, he could see it much easier and clearer now. He tried to help Otabek get through it as much as he could, but there was only so much either of them could do.

Maybe ignorance was bliss after all, not that Yuri would know.

Once the Grand Prix Final arrived Yuri realized that it was almost time, two more performances and Otabek would announce his retirement. Yuri tried his best not to show how much it pained him, how sad that thought made him, because he didn’t want it to be even harder on Otabek, but fuck it was hard and sucked so bad. At fifteen he would’ve fought tooth and nail to somehow change Otabek’s mind, but after more than seven years of friendship, five of being in a relationship, and engaged for one, he couldn’t do it.

Besides Yuri and Otabek, the other four skater that had made it to the final were Seung-Gil and Phichit—according to the latters Instagram captions and hashtags they were dating as of recently, not that Yuri would care—along with Emil and JJ. Mila and Sara had, unsurprisingly, also made it to the Final, which meant that Michele was also there. According to Mila, Michele had calmed down a little over the years and wasn’t quite as fixated on Sara anymore, which was definitely a good thing. Supposedly he even started dating over the summer, much to Emil’s dismay it seemed, though he still hung around the Crispino twins like he couldn’t breath without them near him.

While JJ finished his short program, Yuri stood next to Otabek as they watched him. Yuri reached for Otabek’s hand and brought it up to his lips, lightly kissing it in a wave of affection while completely disregarding all the eyes and cameras present in the arena around them. “Davai,” he said a moment later as JJ stepped off the ice and it was time for Otabek to go on.

Otabek raised his thumb at Yuri just like all those years ago and all the seasons following it, took off his Team Kazakhstan jacket and stepped on the ice.

Even if he’d wanted, Yuri wouldn’t have been able to look away. Otabek’s costume for his final SP was absolutely gorgeous. Most of it was made of sheer white material and the rest thicker fabric decorated with rhinestones and sparking embroidery that gave him this certain captivating look whenever the light hit him just right. Besides Otabek’s FS costume from the season that started their friendship, this was Yuri’s favorite costume.

The music was basically Otabek in music form marrying both his DJ side and the classical one, the song an original mix of Electro with Vivaldi’s Winter, a complete contrast to anything he’d ever skated to. It was fucking amazing, his choreography explosive, powerful, expressive and intricate like none before it. Otabek definitely knew how to leave with a bang. The entire audience was into it, far more than into any of JJ’s shitty self-made songs about his own fucking ego, far more than into any of Chris’ overly sexual train wrecks, and far more than Yuuri’s ‘Yuri On Ice’ performance.

Yuri felt nervous as Otabek made his way to the kiss and cry for his scores. He knew the scores would be stellar, they simply fucking had to be, but who knew if someone wouldn't decide to fuck him over again just like in Barcelona.

“He’ll easily get over a hundred points,” Victor said next to Yuri.

“Fucking obviously,” Yuri agreed.

“With that SP he definitely has more than a big shot for gold at Worlds,” Yuuri added and suddenly Yuri felt almost physically sick. There would be no more Worlds, and no more medals after this. Why, why, _why?!_

“Oh my…” Yuri said though the rest of his words died on the tip of his tongue as the announcer called Otabek’s scores while they simultaneously appeared on the screens scattered all around the arena. In his final run for a Grand Prix medal Otabek broke Yuri’s long-standing SP world record. Yuri had never felt sadder while at the same time prouder than in that very moment, his jaw literally hitting the floor.

The day ended with Yuri just below Otabek with a four-point difference that Yuri hoped would stay until the end. He wanted Otabek to win gold, though he wouldn’t make it easy for him because that’d be cheating and unfair. Otabek once said that he only wanted to win against Yuri fair and square, so Yuri would put his everything into his FS even though he knew that that one would be even harder than the SP.

The night after the SP, Yuri woke up from some odd dream he almost immediately forgot somewhere way past three am. Their hotel room was dark, only faintly illuminated by the faint light coming in through the window, the sky clear and dotted with stars.

"Beka?" Yuri asked as he turned around and noticed that instead of sleeping, Otabek was awake and looking toward the window. "Why aren't you sleeping?"

"I don't know," he said, quietly. "I just…couldn't fall asleep."

There was something in his voice that made Yuri feel unease, and he was pretty sure he knew what was causing it. It wasn't that hard to guess really. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"No, it's okay." Finally Otabek averted his eyes away from the window and over at Yuri. "Come here." He opened his arms so Yuri could snuggle up against him. Yuri wanted to talk, wanted to know what was going on in Otabek's head, but maybe giving him the feeling that he wasn't alone would be enough for now. Lightly he kissed Otabek's chest before settling into a comfortable position. Otabek put his arms around him, enveloping him in warmth and the feeling of security and home, quickly lulling him back to sleep.

The next morning during public practice Otabek seemed fine, though a bit tired, unsurprisingly. Yuri had no idea at what time he'd fallen asleep, though he knew it was way too little sleep as for what their bodies needed. Maybe he'd force Otabek into taking a nap together later or something.

He could slowly see him drifting exactly like he worried it would happen. It wasn't good and fuck it would only get worse. But Yuri had no idea what he could do it make it better, and he so desperately wanted to help in any way he could. Was there even anything he could do?

An idea came into his mind, one he immediately hated but knew he had to follow through with anyways, swallow his pride and stupidity and deal with it like an adult.

He stepped off the ice while Yakov was occupied with talking to Victor. Otabek was going though his FS on the ice not paying attention to him. Perfect.

With a laser like focus Yuri walked over to Yuuri before he could possibly change his mind. Yuuri sat on a chair a few meters away from Victor and Yakov and seemed to be scrolling through something on his phone.

"Yuuri I need your help," Yuri said hating every second of it. He wasn't fond of asking for help, especially not Yuuri because it usually meant that Victor would get involved and he could very much live without that, thank you very much.

"Did something happen?” Concern marked Yuuri's words and expression, his brows lightly pulled together. He stood up and pushed his phone into his pocket so he could give Yuri his full attention.

"No, nothing happened I just...I just need your advice, that's all." Yuri grabbed Yuuri's arm and dragged him away from the ice and the others so they could have some privacy and no one would hear what they were talking about. The last thing Yuri needed was to read about this in the press, like last year with their engagement. "Before I say anything you have to promise you won't tell Victor, or anyone for that matter, or I will kick your stupid ass all the way back to fucking Hasetsu."

Yuuri raised his hands as though in defeat and lightly nodded. "I won't tell him, I promise. So what's up, Yurio?"

Yuri wanted to curse him out for that stupid nickname but couldn't find the fire inside of him to do it. He sighed instead. Now or never, no matter how much he dreaded saying it out loud. "Otabek is retiring after the final. I'm not happy, he's not happy, it sucks ass but that's how it is.”

“Otabek is retiring?” After Otabek’s SP, Yuuri looked rightfully shocked by Yuri’s words.

Yuri nodded. “He’ll announce it after the medal ceremony. He wanted to win one last medal, which he obviously will.”

“So you want my help to try and change his mind or…?” Yuuri asked a bit unsure.

“What, no, I’m not that big of a selfish asshole anymore,” Yuri said sounding almost offended. That was something Victor would do, but not him. “I know it’s the right thing to do if he feels like he can’t go on anymore, so the last thing I want to do is make it harder on him by trying to force him into continuing. Not even I would do something cruel like that, Katsudon. No, I want to help him, make the transition easier for him because I know he's already slipping, already worrying what will come next, what he'll do with his life once this will end. So what should I do?"

At first Yuuri remained silent, looked away and contemplated Yuri’s words. As more seconds ticked by Yuri began to wonder if asking him was a bad idea after all, if maybe he should’ve asked Victor or Yakov instead. Finally, after a few more seconds, Yuuri raised his eyes back toward Yuri and said: "Tell him to go, leave."

"What!?" Yuri all but yelled. "Are you fucking stupid?” This was unbelievable. What was wrong with that asshole? “Why would I do that? We're engaged for fucks sake."

"That's not what I meant, Yurio," Yuuri said, his tone soft, almost a bit frustrated maybe. "I meant give him space and time to figure this out. What he needs is to clear his mind and evaluate his future. Maybe tell him to go visit his family or Victor and I in Japan, put some distance between him and the skating world while you finish the season. You don't have to end your engagement, that would be the last thing that would help him, would rather pull the floor away from under him.”

“But…” Yuri began but Katsudon cut him off.

“I know you’d much rather have him around, especially because you’re engaged and finally living together, but forcing him into coming along with you to competitions and spend time watching you do what he can't do anymore, it would only hurt him and I know that's the last thing you want to do."

“This is stupid,” Yuri said and tried to sound as opposed to what Yuuri said as he felt, or wanted to feel. It took three years for Otabek to move to St. Petersburg, and now that it finally happened last year, Yuri was supposed to send him away? “Thanks for nothing, asshole.”

With his hood pulled over his head, Yuri walked out of the room and back toward the rink. Yakov yelled his ass off asking where Yuri had gone and what he was thinking, but Yuri just waved him off and returned onto the ice. Fucking Katsudon, he should’ve known asking him was a bad fucking idea.

Yuri could feel Otabek’s questioning gaze on him, surely caused by all of Yakov’s fucking yelling, but Yuri couldn’t make himself look at him. Instead he skated across the ice, past JJ and Phichit, and then launched into a quad salchow to let off some steam. There were way too many emotions racing through his body right now and he was so not in the mood to deal with any of them.

He didn’t know what he expected to come out of his conversation with Yuuri, but that hadn’t been it. His words hadn’t been helpful or reassuring in any sort of way, instead they made everything only so much more complicated and shitty.

The rest of the day passed quietly. Yuri tried his best to not let his bad mood show, to come across positive and motivated to skate his ass off during his FS. As more hours went by it became easier and as soon as they went to bed that night, Yuri felt himself relax at least a little.

“Are you okay, Yura?” Otabek asked after a while. Under the blanket, Yuri reached for Otabek’s hand and gave it a light squeeze.

“Yeah, I’m all right,” he said with a light sigh. “Just tired and mildly nervous before tomorrow.”

“Since when do you get nervous?” Otabek sounded almost amused and Yuri immediately felt himself relax. That tone of voice was much better than the emptiness he’d heard in it the previous night. Maybe they would be okay after all, maybe Yuri would be able to ignore what Yuuri said.

“Weren’t you the one who said that even Tigers have emotions?” Yuri countered before rolling onto his side and leaning his head onto his arm so he could look at Otabek easier. “But, nervous or not, I will kick your ass tomorrow.”

“I expect nothing less from you.” A small smile appeared on Otabek’s lips and Yuri swore his hearted stopped for just a moment.

 

* * *

 

After the medal ceremony Yuri, Otabek and JJ were ushered toward the press, sat down behind a table facing an entire room filled with cameras and bright lights, reporters with questions, phones and notebooks ready to write down anything they said. As silver medalist Yuri sat to Otabek's right while JJ to his left. Yuri wanted to smile but knowing what was about to happen, he simply couldn't do it. A blank face had to do instead.

"What are your hopes for the rest of the season?" one of the reporters from a Russian sports TV station asked at some point. She’d been around since Yuri’s senior debut, though Yuri could never remember her name.

Almost in perfect unison Yuri and JJ said: "Gold at Worlds." Meanwhile Otabek remained silent, which of course didn't go unnoticed.

"What about you, Mr. Altin, now that you've won gold at the GPF and broken Plisetsky’s world record, what comes next for you this season?" the same lady asked while Yuri tried his hardest to keep his face on a natural expression. This was it.

"The season ends here for me," Otabek said, his voice perfectly calm like he was talking about something trivial like the weather or the grey flooring and not the end of his fucking career. "Like you said, I've broken the SP world record and taken gold, which is more than I could've ever asked for my final Grand Prix series." He paused for a moment. "What I'm trying to say is that I am retiring."

For just a moment the room turned perfectly still, all cameras frozen, their shutters silent, the reporters looking like they were in shock, eyes wide and mouths forming surprised 'O's. Yuri could feel JJ looking at him and Otabek, asking questions and looking for a sign that this was for real or if maybe just some really stupid prank. Yuri couldn't make himself turn his head, could barely keep his eyes looking straight ahead while his heart hammered in his chest. It wasn't his career that was ending, yet somehow it might as well have been judging by how sad it made him and how much it hurt.

"I want to start this off by thanking the people of Kazakhstan, as well as my family, for their continued support all these years, thank the rink mates I've had across four countries who helped me grow as skater and person, the coaches I've had in the past and the choreographers who have given me the best programs I could have asked for, and my current coach Anton who always had my back and even went as far as moving to St. Petersburg with me so I could live with my fiancé, Yuri Plisetsky."

Yuri's only hope was that he didn't look half as in pain as he felt. All the way at the back of the room he could see Victor and Yuuri standing together watching him. They looked sad. _Get in line, assholes_ , he thought. Yuuri smiled for a second, knowingly, probably one of those smiles that usually somehow worked calmingly on other people but currently didn’t do shit for Yuri.

"I've achieved more than I have ever hoped for in my over one and a half decades on the ice. It has been both a great honor and privilege to represent my country at international competitions and I cannot imagine how my career could've been better. I've made many friends along the way, won more medals than I have space for, seen many places I would've otherwise never gotten to visit, and I've found love. What more could I have asked for? Thank you."

And with that, he was done. The room rendered speechless once more, shutters going off loud as thunder as Yuri finally turned toward Otabek and tried his best to smile despite everything and took Otabek’s hand as silent sign of support. If he spoke he would probably cry so he hoped like never before that the reporters would give them a moment and instead ask JJ some stupid questions so he could blab on about his ego or something.

 

* * *

 

Curious Otabek stood next to Yuuri and Victor near the barrier as they waited for Yuri’s turn to perform his exhibition program. For some reason he’d made some big secret out of what he planned on performing, even refused to tell Otabek about it, which only added on to his curiosity. What was so special about this program? It was clear that it was a different one than at the qualifiers, but why?

Last time, when he decided to work with Johnny Weir, Yuri at least told him. This time? Nothing.

“Do you know anything?” Otabek finally asked Victor while Mila took the ice.

“Not a clue,” Victor said with a shrug.

“And even if he’d know anything, I wouldn’t allow him to tell you,” Yuuri said and smiled, his arm around his husband’s waist. Victor turned and winked at Yuuri, causing the latter to blush. It was cute, and it showed that what those two had was special since they seemed still just as in love as eight years ago.

Otabek hoped that in seven, seventeen or thirty-seven years, he and Yuri would still feel that way about each other, too. He honestly couldn’t imagine how it would be possible for it to not be that way because there was no way he could ever stop loving Yuri, it just seemed impossible.

“And he really didn’t tell you anything?” Victor asked just as Mila finished her program. Otabek knew trying to communicate over the loud applause would be futile so he just shook his head _no_.

“And now, last but not least, on the ice is the Grand Prix men’s singles silver medalist representing Russia, Yuri Plisetsky,” the announcer said. “According to Plisetsky, this program is dedicated to Otabek Altin of Kazakhstan who announced his retirement earlier today.”

Finally, what felt like an eternity later, a spotlight illuminated Yuri across the ice.

Otabek’s mouth fell open in surprise because that had to literally be the possibility he expected least. But there he was, Yuri, skating toward the center of the ice wearing an exact replica of Otabek’s FS costume from their first GPF together in Barcelona. This was impossible. There was simply no way yet it was actually happening.

The familiar music began to play while Yuri set into motion, the choreography exactly the same as years ago, though it seemed so much more elegant as Yuri performed it. They’d skated each other’s choreographies at least partially for fun a few times across the years, laughing and claiming to be able to do it better than the other person, but this was something else. This was serious, an actual performance streamed across the world.

Otabek’s future husband performing his FS as parting gift.

 _Damn_.

Otabek had no idea what to think or what to feel. How did he deserve this? When had Yuri even managed to practice that choreography and how had he done it without Otabek noticing? He was overwhelmed by emotions, his heart beating hard and fast while a fond and soft smile slid onto his lips and eyes. He expected for any thing to happen that day, expected to either not medal at all or only take bronze, for the press to give him shit for retiring at twenty-six, but not even in his wildest dreams had he even dared to think of any of this.

Like so many times across the years of their friendship and relationship, Yuri managed to completely surprise and overwhelm him in the best way possible.

The significance of skating and performances, and their relevance in their relationship, didn’t get lost on him. One had accompanied every milestone: their first kiss and the start of their relationship, their engagement, and now Otabek’s farewell from the world of skating. A small chuckle managed to escape him as he wondered ever so briefly if they would skate their marriage vows to each other.

Halfway through Yuri’s piece, Otabek found himself surrounded by not only Victor and Yuuri, who stood to his right looking like they were watching a masterpiece happening in front of their very eyes, but also JJ and Leo—the latter had flown in to support him and Phichit—both giving him knowing smiles and mildly rough pats on the back. Neither brought up his retirement so far and Otabek hoped it would stay that way. There was nothing left to say about it, no arguing and no way to change his mind.

Otabek was glad that it was finally out in the open, that he was officially done—he’d even had to step back from performing at the gala himself because his body was just hurting too much to handle two performances on the same day—and could focus on the future, on a different path. Truth be told, he wasn’t quite sure what said new path would be, but he would soon figure it out.

For now, for the first time in his life, he didn’t have to worry about returning home and practicing more for Four Continents and Worlds, didn’t have to worry about perfecting his routines or adding more quads or combinations for points. In a strange way it almost made him feel free, though he had no idea what to do with this feeling.

He had no idea what would happen next, and despite the pleasant feeling of freedom, he was afraid, truly so.

“It’s almost like you skating my program years ago,” he heard Victor quietly say pulling him out of his thoughts, his eyes still glued to Yuri’s every move.

“No, this is much better,” Yuuri said with so much conviction in his voice it was impossible, though Otabek gladly agreed, even if only in his mind. Victor’s ‘Stammi Vicino’ program had been brilliant in many ways, yet Yuri doing his routine was a million times better, powerful, captivating, and thrilling.

“I never would have expected Yurio to do something like this, love anyone like that,” Victor continued and Otabek wondered if he should be listening to their conversation, though he couldn’t stop himself.

“Our angry cat son is all grown up.” Yuuri chuckled at his own words. “I’m glad it really is Otabek. And here you didn’t want to believe me when I told you this would happen years ago.”

“My beautiful husband the psychic,” Victor mused while Otabek couldn’t help but smile.

He, too, was glad that it was him and not someone else.

The music faded away and Yuri bowed toward the audience before skating off of the ice. He looked tired and sweaty yet still so unbearably gorgeous it stole Otabek’s breath. Otabek left the others behind and walked toward the rink exit to catch Yuri before they had to return onto the ice all together.

“Thank you,” Otabek murmured into Yuri’s ear after pulling him into a tight hug.

Yuri pulled him even closer, kissed him on the cheek and smiled the most beautiful smile he’d ever seen, affectionate, enamored and honest. “You are so very welcome.”

 

* * *

 

After the gala, banquet and press shit, they all returned home. While Yuri, Otabek, Anton, Yakov and Lilia piled into one plane, Victor and Yuuri went for a different one, bidding them farewell and promising to message Yuri when they’d land. Yuri appreciated the fact that those two had come all the way from Japan just to support him and Otabek, and Phichit, despite the cost and distance.

The first days back at home seemed almost normal, like nothing changed at all, like it was just another season like all those before. Yuri woke up in the morning, made coffee and then they left together for the rink. For a while Yuri managed to push reality out of his mind, let himself believe that Otabek wasn’t just on the ice to humor him, or because it was a reflex, but that he was practicing too, even if Anton wasn’t there.

Yakov yelled something and Yuri absentmindedly smiled ever so lightly at just how beautifully familiar it felt. Yakov and Lilia worked him relentlessly, making him go through his routines in their on and off ice versions again and again until he managed to smooth out even more of the rougher edges. Nationals would come around in just a few weeks so there was no time for slacking.

In moments where his mind betrayed him, Yuri watched Otabek, noticed the slight longing in his eyes as he watched the rest of the Russian team practice, the way his mouth curled downward barely noticeable for anyone who didn’t know him as well as Yuri did. During their mornings and evenings he saw how Otabek’s face sometimes showed this pain-slashed grimace as he winced at something or another hurting, the signs of years on the ice showing, the effects that falling and nailing landings again and again had in the long run.

Figure skating was beautiful and honestly the best thing in the world, but it came at a price, one that left you feeling old in your mid or late twenties, your body aching and screaming for mercy.

At home Yuri tried to distract Otabek as well as he could, and as much as his own exhaustion allowed for it, but there was only so much he could do. There were good days, and ones that just sucked hard. Sometimes Otabek seemed happy and content with his new reality, a life without competitions and endless hours of practice, but other times he just looked like a lost puppy that had been kicked one too many times.

Eventually he would get used to it, one day, surely.

Yuuri, Georgi and Chris managed to do it, so why should it be any different with Otabek? Maybe Yuri really would be able to completely ignore Yuuri’s completely fucking stupid advice, because even as much as considering bringing any of it up to Otabek made him wince on the inside and his heart bleed. He didn’t want him to leave. Did that make him selfish?

After Otabek announced his retirement, Yuri swore he wouldn’t check any news articles about it, would ignore everything and anything that was on his twitter or tumblr about it, avoid everything his fucking Angels had to say about it. A week seemed like a reasonable amount of time, enough for the initial shock to die down and more rational shit to be written, or at least that was what Yuri hoped.

Once the time was up, Yuri finally gave in to his almost sick curiosity, typed in Otabek’s name on goggle and prepared himself for the worst. Turns out he wasn’t prepared at fucking all. **'The golden boy with the golden last name is no more'** one of the headlines read in Kazakh. Even though Yuri was more than aware of that fact, sitting next to the person in question on their couch in their apartment, he still wanted to throw his phone across the room and tell them all to shut up. This was hard enough on Otabek, he didn't need the press having a field day—more like a week—because of this. He really had hoped they would’ve let the topic go at this point. Or at least focused their useless words on praising his achievements and highlighting those instead of his retirement and the reason why.

 **'Even the mighty fall'** another even stupider headline said in Russian, the article detailing how supposedly it was clear even the previous season that Otabek wouldn't make it much longer anymore, along with the most far fetched explanation to back up that argument. It was complete fucking bullshit start to finish. None of it was true. Up until the moment of Otabek announcing it, no one had even as much as considered that he might retire, especially after he broke the world record so the fuck where those assholes going on about?

 **'Plisetsky's emotional farewell to fiancé - is the end of their relationship near?'** another piece read and this time Yuri's blood was a second away from boiling with anger. Did they seriously question his love for Otabek to this extent? Did they really think he would break up with him only because he wasn't a skater anymore? What the actual _fuck_?

"Yura, stop it," Otabek said, firmly, next to him.

"Stop what?"

"Stop reading that, Yura, it won't do anything but get you unnecessarily angry."

"I...fuck, who do those assholes even think they are that they dare to write this garbage? They can write about me whatever the fuck they want, I don't care, but not about _you_."

Otabek sighed. "There's nothing you or I can do about it. It'll pass in a few more days so just let it go."

Yuri snorted then because if he was bad at something, it was definitely letting things go, especially thing like this. Rationally he knew Otabek was right, there really was nothing he could do no matter how much he wanted to scream and kick all those dickheads, that it wouldn’t do anything. The only result would be even more headlines and gossip websites going on a fucking rampage. Neither of them needed that right now, or ever.

"Fine," he finally said, locked his phone and put in on the coffee table. Yuri turned on the sofa, threw his legs across Otabek's lap and took his hand between his. "How are you holding up, and don't you dare bullshit me."

On the outside most people would think that Otabek was taking his retirement with ease, leaving skating behind and starting a life after the ice. But Yuri could see beneath the surface, could see the unrest and turmoil bubbling at a rapidly increasing pace. He could see the sadness in his eyes, the shadows underneath them caused by sleepless nights, could feel that he was starting to lose himself in the question of _what next_? What fucking next?

Leaving something behind that was part of you for almost your entire life, no one took that with ease. Even Victor hadn't just taken it with a smile, at least not one that wasn't fake. He had Yuuri and their upcoming marriage, but after being on top of the world for so long, clearing the spot wasn't easy. With time people would forget you, mention you only as an afterthought if even, bring you up only if someone else did something better than you did, took your mark away from you for good.

Yuri could see that Otabek was evaluating his words, thought about an answer that would help Yuri, get him off his back. It was written in the pressed line of his lips and the frown between his brows.

"I'm okay," he finally said and they both knew that it was a lie. Usually Yuri would jump at him, force the truth out of him no matter what, but he'd learned when to back down and just watch, wait until Otabek would come around on his own, share his thoughts. Yuri hated waiting but he didn't want to make this worse for Otabek so he swallowed his selfish needs and just nodded instead.

"Do you want to go to bed?" Yuri felt tired, exhausted in a way that wasn't physical. He was worrying more than ever before and it was wearing him down. He didn't know how to help Otabek and if there even was a way to do it, or if maybe he had to do it all on his own.

When Otabek didn't answer, Yuri got up from the sofa and extended his hand toward him. Silently Otabek took it and followed him into their bedroom and into bed.

It was grotesquely quiet once they turned off the lights. The only noises came from the street below, the muffled sound of the occasional car driving down the street, sirens in the distance, a cellphone ringing or a bell on a bicycle.

Maybe Yuri had to consider Yuuri’s advice after all, maybe, just fucking maybe, it wasn’t that shit after all. It was worth a try. He hated the idea but if it would help Otabek, Yuri was ready to do it for him regardless of just how afraid he was. All he wanted was for Otabek to be happy, to be okay, and if leaving until the season would end would grant him inner peace and clarity, Yuri wouldn’t stop him. He wanted to do the right thing, at least give Otabek the offer. Maybe he would reject it, maybe he wouldn’t, but at least he would know that Yuri cared. He cared more than he ever fucking thought he would.

"Otabek," Yuri said a while later, a whisper against the silence, barely audible yet enough. He could hear Otabek shift and turn around toward him but he remained silent. Yuri could see him look at him even without any lights. "We need to talk."

At that Otabek sat up and looked odd, even more off than usually. Yuri wasn't surprised, if Otabek would've said those words to him he probably would've fucking dropped dead instantaneously with every worst-case scenario shooting through his mind.

"I...I'm," he tried but the words died in his mouth because suddenly he wasn't so sure anymore. It had all made sense when he spoke with Yuuri, his explanation logical and shit, and he knew it was worth a try, but actually having this conversation with Otabek for real was nothing but pure fucking torture and damn he wanted to tell him 'never mind' but knew it was too late now.

"Yura?"

"I'm letting you go, Beka," Yuri said, quietly, using words that mirrored what Yuuri had said, even against his better judgment. Yuri winced and regretted it immediately as a hurt and shocked expression took over Otabek's face.

"Do you…want to end this?" he asked, his voice sounding like he was both afraid and in pain. "Terminate the engagement and break up with me?"

Yuri wanted to cry just thinking of that. "Of course not, fuck," he said and shook his head 'no' to emphasize his words. "Believe me when I say that I would rather retire myself and never step on the ice again than end what we have." It was sappy as fuck but it was the truth. In the darkness of their bedroom he didn’t have to worry about losing his reputation or some shit, could show that he cared and truly loved Otabek, and show a side no one ever got to see besides him. "But I want you to be happy, Beka, and I know you won't find that at competitions with me, or watching me practice between them. And I don't want to make this harder on you than it already is. I can see it in your eyes, you know." Yuri raised his hand and placed it against his cheek, his thumb lightly grazing over Otabek's cheekbones. "You're hurting, and it pains me to see you this way, so I have to let you go so you can find a new purpose, find the future you want for yourself."

"You are my future, Yura," he said and, fuck, it only made this so much harder to do. He didn't want to see Otabek leave, didn't want to go back to sleeping alone, to waking up alone and just being alone in their apartment again, but this wasn't the time to be a selfish bastard. This wasn't about him. This was about Otabek and what was best for him.

"And you are mine, but that alone won't make you happy in the long run." Yuri tried to smile, though it was almost impossible. "Yuuri and Victor offered that you could stay with them for a while to clear your head, enjoy the peacefulness and check out whatever it is they are doing to pass their time. Or maybe you'd want to travel?"

"Not without you," he said, firmly. "What would the Eiffel Tower or the Grand Canyon be without you with me there to see it?"

Yuri closed his eyes for a moment. "You're really not making this easy, you know." He sighed. "Or maybe visit your family? I'm sure Aisulu would love to see you, it's been a while."

Otabek looked torn between appreciating Yuri's words, the selflessness with which he spoke no matter how much it hurt, and fuck did it hurt like a bitch, and just how much he hated the entire situation all together.

"Once the season will be over and I'll win gold for you at Worlds, we'll be together again with a new prospect of our future and a wedding to plan, if you'll still want to marry me then, that it."

With a lopsided smile Otabek leaned forward and light head butted Yuri. "You're an idiot, Yura."

"But you love me anyway."

"That is very much true."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was a monster to write I'm not gonna lie. I wrote the first part where Otabek tells Yuri about his retirement about four weeks ago, actually, but didn't write the rest until last week. I have so many feels, especially when listening to the title song while reading. Wow.
> 
> And now all the links:  
> \- Yuri's FS outfit was based on Jason Brown's SP from 4CC 2017: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pu12ZDDZqME  
> \- Otabek's SP outfit was based on Adam Rippon's 'Birds' FS (honestly this might legit be my favorite routine and costume ever, I love Adam, like I can't even): https://youtu.be/u7LpB_U_PjY  
> \- Otabek's SP music: https://soundcloud.com/prototyperaptor/vivaldi-winter-raptoredit
> 
> I'm sorry for the cliffhanger ending to this chapter. Everything will be revealed and explored in the next one, don't worry. Also there's only two more chapters left until the end of this fic. I don't know how I feel about this, but there are good chances that I will write the sequel since you guys seem interested! :)
> 
> So any thoughts? I greatly appreciate every comment and kudos you guys leave me. It truly helps me stay motivated and write more chapters, make them better each time. :)


	19. Afraid, This Town (Age 23-24)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title song 1: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LrWwtU7iyl0  
> Title song 2: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hNBlfyYHu80
> 
> This chapter just didn't feel right with just one song, like originally it was supposed to just be 'This Town' but that just didn't feel right at all, so here are two instead. I'm weak and tired.
> 
> On a different tone, I wrote most of this in the past 6 days, out of which I've spent 3 dying due to killer fevers and I'm still sick as fuck right now, so if there are glaring errors in any shape or form, please let me know.
> 
> Anyway, THANK YOU SO MUCH for reading and I hope you'll ENJOY!
> 
> not beta'd.

The first few days in Hasetsu passed quietly, peacefully even. By some miracle of willpower Otabek somehow managed to push all the thoughts of his retirement aside, the reasons behind he why he was there to begin with, and slowly built himself an illusion of calmness and serenity. A state of mind that allowed him not to worry at least for a little while in form of a façade only he could see and feel. Victor and Yuuri were just as welcoming as the last few times he’d been here with Yuri, took him into their home like he was a family member coming home and not just a friend there for a visit. It was nice, really.

Their life was so different than Otabek's back at home, their days relaxed and dictated by whatever they decided to do, barely any schedules there to be followed, or so it seemed at least. Wherever they went there were people who greeted them with smiles and polite bows, friendly words and this inner peace Otabek wasn't used to in any sort of way. He was used to the hectic life in the city, everyone living fast, running late, loud voices and cars honking angrily. Hasetsu was different.

After just those few days he concluded that coming here had definitely been a good decision, or at least he made himself believe that most of the time. In reality darker thoughts were simmering just beyond his façade, far away enough that they didn’t bother him but close enough that he knew they were there.

Everything started to slowly crack when Aisulu texted him from England asking if he was free to Skype. Of course he was so they arranged a time that would suit them both despite the time difference and logged on to the program a few hours later. It's been a while since they'd last talked, actually talked beyond a few text messages or emails, so he was actually kind of looking forward to it, or so he thought at least.

Half a year prior, after graduating from high school with a 1.0 average—something neither him nor Serik had managed to achieve, though out of the three of them Otabek had the smallest chances to begin with though he’d tried his best, okay—and quickly got accepted by several universities, all her top choices. She didn’t even hesitate for a second before choosing studying _Human, Social and Political Science_ at the University of Cambridge. It was utterly impressive and Otabek had been impossibly proud of her. His little sister was getting ready to take over the world.

After a moment of struggling, their connection turned stable and Aisulu’s smiling face appeared on his screen with her dorm room in the background.

“Brother dearest, how’re you holding up with being an elderly citizen and all?”

“I’m retired, not old, there’s a difference in there somewhere.” There it was, not even a minute into their conversation and already the first tiny cracks appeared in his façade, they were barely there but he knew even the smallest ones could lead to a complete downfall. He dearly hoped that that wouldn’t happen.

“Sure there is,” Aisulu said with a wink. “I talked to Yuri, he said the press was quite brutal about it.” Although Otabek knew that those two were friends, the idea that they talked from time to time, especially about him, still felt a little strange somehow. “He didn’t quite get to elaborate on the matter since Yakov was screaming his lungs out at him in the background but judging by the pissy tone of voice, it sounded serious.”

“I tried not to read any of it, but I did see Yuri do it. And yeah, he was furious about it like they would’ve insulted him personally or something.”

“Just means he cares, we all do. Mom and dad are worried, and so is Serik.”

“They don’t have to be, I’m okay, somewhat. Or at least I will be.” A moment of silence arose then because even though it came almost too easy to Otabek to say those two words, he wasn’t even sure if they were actually true, at least not entirely.

"So, brother dearest, speaking of people who care, you and Yuri are taking a break, huh? And here I thought it was going so well between you two. What did you do?"

At that his perfectly crafted illusion cracked and fell down all around him shattering into a million irreparable pieces, some never to be seen again. This wasn't a vacation between competitions. There were no more competitions for him. All of it just felt so wrong. Yet what was even worse was Aisulu’s assumption that it had something to do with his relationship, the mere idea burning as though someone held a thousand degree hot knife against his skin in short yet incredibly painful bursts.

"What?" he croaked before catching himself and coaxing his voice into sounding firm and serious, though failing more than not. "We are not taking a break. Also what do you mean what did I do?"

"Is that so?" Aisulu raised a questioning brow. "Well you obviously had to do something to get yourself not sent to the couch for the night but all the way onto a different continent, country and six time zones away. How else can you explain to me why you're all the way at Victor and Yuuri's in Hasetsu instead of going with Yuri to the Russian Nationals? Seems like a break to me."

Most of the time Otabek somehow managed to repress the thought of Yuri heading out to Nationals soon without him there, but now that he thought about it, he felt guilty for not being there. Sure, Yuri had been the one who told him to go, but it didn’t change the fact that he should be there to support him. Maybe he was kind of a bad fiancé after all.

"This has nothing to do with taking a break. I'm here because I need to figure a few things out, clear my mind and decide what I want to do with the rest of my life."

"Easy. Get married, have kids and become a trophy husband like Victor. Done."

"Victor isn't a trophy husband, don't be ridiculous. He's a choreographer."

Aisulu rolled her eyes. "Yeah like twice a year. There's nothing bad about it. Who would say no to such a highly decorated guy anyways. But you're right, Yuri would fit the role better, he's prettier."

"You're awful," Otabel said and lightly shook his head. Yuri could be many things, but he could never be a trophy husband. He was way to driven and passionate to sit around all day with his only job being looking gorgeous.

"Anyway, didn't you say you wanted to be a coach in an interview a few years back? Help bring out more talent in Kazakhstan and all that?"

Aisulu's words reminded him of a conversation he had with Yuri years ago one night at 3 am over Skype. They talked about the future, one that seemed so blissfully far away, especially for Yuri who was only 16 at the time. That night he told Yuri with heartfelt conviction that he wanted to be a coach one day.

 _'You'd be a shit coach'_ Yuri had said, his words lacking bite, even more betrayed by the light smile on his face. It was his way of telling Otabek that he would be great at it. But would he?

"Maybe. But I don't know if I have what it takes to be a coach, you know?"

"Oh come on, if you can have a successful relationship with Yuri bad-temper Plisetsky, you can tame any kid into being a competitive figure skater. Why don't you talk to Victor about it, he used to coach Yuuri so I'm sure he could give you an insight."

"Maybe." Otabek sighed. For so long retiring seemed like such a distant thing, something he hadn't really dedicated much thought to, something he didn’t have to think of, so now having no other choice but to actually sit down and decide on something, it was more than a daunting task. How do you just start doing something else after dedicating almost twenty years to figure skating?

Aisulu must’ve noticed his shift in mood because she looked away for a moment before her face lit up and she changed topics, at least somewhat. "Anyway, I’m taking James to the rink later today. As sister of _the_ Kazakhstani skater I have a reputation to uphold, you know, not that I could match your skill even if I were to try really hard, but you know what I mean. You did teach me a few things across the years.”

“You’ve been in England for not even a year and you’ve already managed to find yourself a guy, one with the most British name in human history at that. I don’t know what to make of that.”

This was definitely a better topic of discussion than his retirement, even if he still slightly struggled with the idea that his baby sister was already nineteen years old, living in England, studying at Cambridge and dating. Sure Aisulu had been in relationships before, but there was a difference between ‘dating’ at thirteen and at nineteen.

“Oh yeah because Yuri Plisetsky is such an non-Russian name, huh?” Aisulu challenged. “The only way his name could be more Russian would be if his name were Vladimir or Dmitri or something.”

“Want to know a secret?”

“Not without a reason does Yuri call me the female Phichit,” she said with a smile.

“His father’s name was Dmitri, so it’s actually Yuri Dmitrievich Plisetsky.”

At that Aisulu simply broke out into laughter causing Otabek to smile, an actual genuine smile. It almost felt strange. There was something about her laugh that was almost like magic. “You win, brother dearest. I really thought I stood a chance with James Williams, but nope, Yuri’s name win’s, I can’t.” She more or less wheezed out the last few words struggling for air between laughter and speech.

“I’m happy that you find this so amusing.”

“Oh I’m having a field day over here now.” Otabek shook his head. “Anyway, I have to leave for classes now and then for the rink. I’ll let you know how it went and you go and talk to Victor tomorrow, okay? The sooner you figure your stuff out, the sooner you’ll be able to go home from your non-relationship break.”

That night Otabek lay awake for way too long mulling over what Aisulu said, wondering if coaching really could be his thing. For a long time it’d seemed like a good idea, like the right decision, so why did he suddenly feel so reluctantly about it? Maybe it was because currently nothing felt right. Not having to wake up before dawn didn’t feel right, not going to the rink every morning didn’t feel right, not having to practice his ass off on the ice day after day didn’t feel right, and above all, not being at home with Yuri didn’t feel right in any sort of way.

Otabek was thankful that Yuuri and Victor had invited him to stay at their place until the end of the season, it really was a great gesture and everything, but it just didn’t feel right for some reason. Then again he knew he couldn’t be home right now. He couldn’t spend his days watching Yuri practice because, just like Yuri had said, it would just hurt too much. A clean cut was what he needed, and what he was doing, but that didn’t change the fact that it just didn’t feel good, not in any sort of way.

There was this sort of hollow feeling within his chest, a piece of him seemingly missing since he announced his retirement, like a part of him had stayed behind on the ice or was hiding and waiting until he would find his calling, no matter how stupid it sounded.

Chris was enjoying his time coaching together with his boyfriend while working on his own line of perfumes. There were a billion and one happy pictures documenting his life off of the ice, so maybe Otabek would get there one day, too? Maybe he simply needed time. Well, time was the one thing he now had more than enough off. There were more than three months left until the end of the season, until he could return home.

Almost absentmindedly he reached for the cat plushy Yuri had given him-the very one Otabek had bought for Yuri when Nikolai was at the hospital-and pulled it close to his chest, Yuri’s scent lingering on its fake fur just enough to take off his edge. It made him feel like he was a kid again lying alone on his bed at age twelve missing home cuddling his teddy bear refusing to cry and show weakness. Maybe some things never changed, not even fourteen years later.

The next morning after a lazy breakfast Otabek wandered through the house surprised by the odd quiet. Usually he could hear Yuuri and Victor talking in a mix of three languages, making Otabek wonder how they didn’t get confused or lost in all of it, or some kind of music playing or the TV. But that morning there was nothing. Looking out of the window he could see their car standing in the driveway so at least one of them had to be there.

"Victor?" Otabek asked while standing in the doorway to the living room. Victor sat on the couch with his hand lazily patting Nika, a Poodle-Beagle mix type dog with floppy ears and fluffy fur in three different colors whom they’d found abandoned on the street on a walk a few months before Makkachin passed away two years prior. Yuuri wasn’t there though, which explained the odd quiet.

"Yes?" he asked, turning around toward him. "Come on in and quit standing there like some stranger. I told you to make yourself at home."

"Thank you," Otabek said as he walked over and sat down on the couch. For a moment he just looked out of the window into the lightly snow covered garden, the trees bare and the sky a light gray blanket of clouds. "Can I ask you something?"

Victor smiled encouragingly. "Sure."

"How did you know you wanted to be a coach?"

"That's a very good question," Victor said with a light laugh. "I didn't know until I did, which I know sounds confusing. I knew I needed to do something about my career because I felt trapped, stuck in his cycle of rinse and repeat, always trying to create a new version of myself for every new season which ultimately just left me feeling isolated and lonely. And then my Yuuri came along and it just felt right, like something had clicked inside of me and I just knew.”

“Okay?” That wasn’t really helpful, though it was interesting nonetheless.

“But, the thing is, there is a big difference between coaching someone like my Yuuri, a skater with a lifetime of experience under his belt who didn’t need me to teach him things but rather needed me as a form of guide along the way. The only thing I did teach him was a quad flip and that’s really it. My job was helping him to see what everyone else saw in him, his talent and skills, the fact that he was more than good enough to win.”

Otabek couldn’t help but lightly smile at Victor’s words, at the fondness with which he spoke whenever Yuuri was the topic of discussion or even as much as a background mention in a story. It was so easy to see just how much they loved each other and how much Yuuri had changed Victor through the years.

“In contrast to that taking someone who isn't even in the junior division yet, it's an entirely different thing. When I think about the trouble I, or Yurio, we're giving Yakov along the way, I don't think I would be cut out for something like that. I like to think that I have a pretty good grip on my temper, but I feel like well, you know how Yuri is toward Yakov."

At that Otabek had to smile once more a little stupidly. He watched Yuri practice enough times and get into pointless petty fights with Yakov to wonder how the old man hadn’t thrown the towel yet about a thousand times. Then again, Yakov knew that below Yuri’s hard exterior there was endless talent that made it all worth it in the end.

“Anyway, why are you asking? Are you considering coaching?”

“I guess I am,” Otabek said with something that resembled a weak shrug.

“Really?” Victor asked with a slight nod. “You should go with my Yuuri to the rink tomorrow. He’s coaching the Nishigori triples, actually. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind telling you some more about coaching from his perspective and what it’s like to work with younger skaters.”

“Are you sure?”

“Of course I am,” Victor said with a smile. “If you want, Nika and I can come along, too.”

“You don’t have to, it’s okay.”

For a little while neither of them said a word, though Otabek could feel Victor’s eyes on him like he was trying to figure out what was going on in his mind. Who knows, maybe he’d be better at it than Otabek himself because so far he didn’t have a single clue.

“You know what you should do?” Victor finally asked. “You should try and worry less. I know that sounds odd and like I’m not taking your struggle seriously, though believe me I am taking it very seriously, but at the same time I know that you won’t figure it out from one day onto the other and obsessing over the question of ‘what next’ won’t do you any good, either. Just take it slow and I’m sure until April a solution will come to you.”

Otabek dearly hoped that Victor would be right and he wished he really could just relax and see what would happen instead of think about the future every waking hour. He could at least try, it was the least he could do for himself and his fleeting sanity.

The next evening at a ridiculous hour way past midnight, Victor, Yuuri and Otabek gathered on the sofa in front of the TV to watch the Russian Nationals. Of course Yuri had pulled skating second to last, which meant the three of them had to stay up way later than any of them usually would, not that they minded.

At some point Victor pulled out his phone and they moved close enough together to all fit into the frame. Quickly Victor typed in a ‘good luck’ caption and tagged Yuri in it before posting it.

It didn’t take long for Otabek’s phone to buzz in his pocket with a text notification. Yuri was known for disregarding Yakov’s newest ‘no phone, no distractions’ rule before going on the ice so he wasn’t surprised.

**Yura: You look tired, Beka. Go sleep, it’s fucking late where you are. You can watch me on YT tomorrow or whatever.**

Of course he would look out for him even at a competition where the only thing he should worry about is himself and his upcoming SP. Otabek felt touched nonetheless.

**Me: Davai, Yura. Love you.**

It came as no surprise to anyone that Yuri finished the day in first place. Russia was good, their skaters famous for being one of the, or even the, best in the world, but none of them could match Yuri. He was the star on the ice, captivating and commanding, enthralling every viewer at home and in the audience at the arena.

Watching him on TV only made Otabek feel even guiltier for not being there. He should be there, support him more actively then with a lame text or Instagram picture with Victor and Yuuri. The feeling ran cold in his veins and gnawed at the edges of his mind. Victor said he shouldn’t worry so much, but how could he not? Of course Yuri was more than capable of winning without him there, obviously, but that didn’t make it feel any better or okay.

The next night they repeated the entire thing for the FS and watched in awe as Yuri performed it even better than at the GPF and the qualifiers. All his landings were executed beautifully, his expression absolutely stunning and the emotions screaming off of the screen. No one was able to remain in their seats once Yuri took his finishing pose. Everyone knew Yuri had just won, his talent unmatched and rewarded by another gold medal crowning him once more as the perfect example of Russian talent and finesse.

Next up mid January would be the European Championships, which Otabek knew Yuri would win with ease, too. Two more competitions and he would be able to return home, if he’d figure his life out by then.

 

* * *

 

“Whose piano is that?” Otabek asked as he stood next to the shiny black upright piano in the back of the living room. Even though it’d been there the entire time, Otabek never really noticed it until then. It was absolutely beautiful and reminded him of the slightly worn dark wood piano standing in his father’s office back in Almaty.

“It’s mine,” Yuri said walking over from the kitchen while wiping his hands on a cloth. “Vitya got it for my birthday three years ago along with a stash of books with notes for different pieces.”

“I didn’t know you used to play.”

“I’ve never been good, but I used to enjoy it when I was younger, though with skating I could never really learn it properly,” he said with a smile. “Why are you asking? Do you play?”

“My father used to teach me when I was a kid, and then I picked it up again during my time in the US and Canada, but I wouldn’t say I’m great at it either,” Otabek mused, remembering how Leo had practically forced his keyboard into his hands when he mentioned that he could play. It did come in handy when working on mixes and trying to add in a little something, though it’d been a while since he even had time for that.

“Feel free to play any time,” Yuuri said sounding encouragingly. “I’m sure it can’t be worse than my first attempts after years of not playing. You should’ve seen Vitya’s face. It was one for the history books.”

“Thanks, Yuuri,” Otabek said still eying the piano wistfully, torn between giving it a try and possibly making a fool of himself, and simply walking away and doing something else. It was a gray day outside, cold with occasional rain and snow that really didn’t feel too invitingly for explorations and leaving the house at all.

Once Yuuri disappeared back into the kitchen, Otabek crossed the last few steps toward the piano and sat down. Looking at the flawless lacquer he almost felt reluctant to touch it afraid to leave smudgy fingerprints, which was just a little stupid since pianos were made to be played and not stand around looking pretty.

The keys felt strangely familiar beneath his touch, cold but welcoming, like an old friend he hadn’t seen in a long time. Closing his eyes Otabek tried to recall any of the really simple things his father had taught him, something to play to see if he even still could. It’d simply been way too long.

His fingers began to move almost on their own volition, pressing keys, black and white ones, a simple melody quickly forming. It didn’t sound completely clean, some notes definitely not right, but it wasn’t as bad as he feared it would be. Next he switched to playing different scales, major and minor ones. That worked out definitely better, cleaner, his mind slowly recalling distant memories and lessons, his hands getting used to playing those keys like he’d never stopped.

Of course he wouldn’t be able to play Rachmaninov or Tchaikovsky any time soon, but it was a beginning.

For a little while everything moved into the background and he merely focused on those black and white keys, on the notes each of them made, the harmonies and melodies he could create along the way. Everything else stopped mattering, he didn’t worry, didn’t wonder, didn’t question, just played and it felt almost liberating.

Why had he ever stopped?

“Would you mind if I’d post that?” Victor asked, seemingly appearing out of nowhere, his phone in hand. Otabek hadn’t even noticed that he wasn’t alone, that someone was watching him, though he knew that at least Yuuri was listening, not that he had much of a choice. “It just sounded so nice, I’m sure everyone would appreciate hearing it. Also I’m pretty sure it's the first time I’ve seen you look this at peace since you arrived, surely Yuri would be happy to see it, too.”

Against his better judgment, and usual aversion to posting most things, Otabek nodded.

“Great,” Victor said, smiling widely, looking way more excited than he should.

Otabek felt more and more self-conscious about his lack of skill and rusty abilities the more views the video got. Maybe having Victor post it wasn’t the best idea, since he had at least three times as many followers as Otabek and thus way more people would see it, but it was too late now.

**Yura: When you come home I’m buying you a piano.**

 

* * *

 

A few days later he finally did as Victor had advised him to do and made his way over to the Ice Castle to watch Yuuri and the Nishigori triplets. Otabek wondered how Yuuri managed to keep those three in check, remembering just how much energy those girls used to have when he first met them, how in synch they were with each other. It was almost an odd thing for him to envision the three of them competing against each other, sister vs. sister vs. sister.

Otabek, Aisulu and Serik always had their own things and rarely shared any of their hobbies, though they also had years of age differences between them while the triplets obviously didn’t. Aisulu had politics, chess and gossip; Serik economics, cars and finance; and Otabek had figure skating, bikes and music.

“Hey, Otabek,” Yuuko greeted him from behind the counter as he walked inside, a big smile on her face, her hair up in a loose bun. “It’s nice to see you! How are you? And how’s Yuri?”

“Hey, Yuuko. I’m good, and he’s too. Working some more on his programs for Euros, you know how he is, nothing but perfection is acceptable.”

“That's good. So, are you here to watch Yuuri and my girls practice? I’m sure they’ll be very excited to see you and show off their programs. After her gold at Nationals, Axel is sure she has a shot at Junior Worlds later this year. I’m just so proud! Loop is still a bit bitter about making forth place, but Lutz seems to be more than fine with sixth. Then again, she cares about it the least, which isn’t to say that she doesn’t care at all, but she’s questioning if she really wants to be a skater or if maybe she’d want to be a coach instead. Guess she’s in a similar place as you right now, questioning the future.”

Otabek wasn’t keeping up with the current juniors so he hadn’t known that Axel was that good. But what Yuuko said about Lutz did hit a spot within him, especially since Lutz was only fifteen with her whole career still ahead of her. At that age Otabek had been more determined than ever to prove his worth to his country and rink mates, the move up to seniors like a shiny goal ahead of him, sharing the ice with the big name skaters and making a run for gold.

Now the only run he was making was around the neighborhood in the morning or evening.

“Anyway, don’t want to hold you up any longer, just go right in,” Yuuko said with another smile. Otabek faintly smiled back and walked toward the rink.

Classical music was playing over the speakers, the sound of blades whizzing across the ice, someone practicing a spin while someone else landed some jump. Voices were talking, Yuuri’s loud above them all giving instructions and corrections sounding much more authoritative than Otabek had ever heard him before even if all of it was in Japanese.

The cold crisp air of the ice felt all too familiar against Otabek’s skin and in his lungs like a welcoming hug, warm yet vicious at the same time, a reminder of what was no more. Yuuri stood on the ice with his arms crossed in front of his chest all dressed in black while the girls practiced on different parts of the ice. They’d gotten much taller since Otabek had seen them the last time, their faces still so impossibly similar, the only things sticking out were their chosen colors and different blades.

Axel, or at least the girl Otabek deemed to be her, entered a spin combination ending in a flawless Biellmann spin that could almost match Yuri’s grace. It was beautiful to watch, their movements so different than those of his fellow male skaters.

Otabek had never spent much time watching the female skaters, only if they were cheering on Mila and Sara, so it was interesting to see. For a brief moment he wondered how it could’ve been like if Aisulu would’ve chosen the same path as him, if she would’ve grown up to become someone who would match Mila’s skills and artistic expression. Surely she would’ve been the most beautiful one of them all on the ice. But, she chose politics instead, which made Otabek even prouder. At least she would never have to stand where he stood now wondering _what next_.

“Oh my god, Yuuri, why didn’t you tell us that Otabek was coming today?” one of the girls all but shrieked across the ice ripping Otabek out of his thoughts.

“Yeah, Yuuri, we could’ve used some warning so we wouldn’t look so ratty!” another one chimed in.

“And I wouldn’t have attempted that double axel knowing that I would land on my ass!” the third one said while Yuuri just shook his head.

Otabek walked up to the barrier, his arms resting on it while Yuuri skated toward him.

“Vitya told me you considered coming by,” he said. “Could’ve told me it’d be today.”

“Sorry,” Otabek said, quietly. “Bad day? Should I leave?”

“Of course not!” Yuuri turned around then. “Girls, take a ten minute break and then we’ll go through your short programs one after the other, okay?” All three of them nodded and did as they were told. Otabek was in awe.

“So, coaching, huh?” _Bravo, Otabek, lamest conversation starter ever. Great job._

“I know, it’s not really what people expect when they think of Katsuki Yuuri, is it?” Yuuri said seemingly amused. “I didn’t think I could do it either until their previous coach decided to quit and Yuuko was in desperate need of a replacement. Vitya quickly declined so I said I’d try and here we are.”

“Heard you already have a gold medalist.”

“I have no idea how I managed that, though really, it was all her doing.” He shrugged a little. “All three of them have tremendous talent so the least I can do is help them learn new things and work on their confidence. Lutz used to be extremely nervous and anxious before competitions but now she’s doing great.”

“What better coach to have then someone who battled with anxiety himself and thus knows what it feels like and how to work through it,” Otabek mused, his eyes practically glued to the ice. He had his skates with him, but he wasn’t sure if he wanted to go on the ice, besides, it was private practice so he shouldn’t even consider it. The girls needed their time here more than him.

“Vitya said the same thing, funny,” Yuuri said. “He also said you’re wondering if you’d want to coach, too.”

“I guess so.”

“Doesn’t sound too convinced, hm?” Otabek just shrugged. He didn’t have a proper answer for that. “Well feel free to come and watch any time if it’ll help. Also ask whatever you’d like, then again I’ve been saying the same with to Yuri for years and the only reaction I got most of the time was a murderous glare accompanied by a nickname that was supposed to sound mean but didn’t.”

“I don’t want this to come across mean or anything, but, we all know how much you struggled with your anxiety and self-confidence, how did you manage to overcome that to be a coach? How did you know you could do it, that this is what you want to do?”

Yuuri smiled then and pushed his glasses back up on his nose. “See, I didn’t know I could do it until I tried. When Yuuko asked me, I was convinced it was a bad idea, that I wouldn’t be able to do it, but after the first day I just felt something inside of me, like a pull type sensation, something that reminded me of how right skating had felt when growing up and deciding that that was what I wanted to do.”

“I guess that makes sense.” It kind of did, though the fact that so far each time he thought of himself as coach he never felt whatever feeling Yuuri was talking about was just a little disconcerting.

“Of course being a coach isn’t always easy and sometimes I feel like quitting when literally nothing goes right during practice or when Loop came in forth and wouldn’t stop crying, but in the long run it’s incredibly rewarding. Seeing them smile when they nail a new jump or spin, the happiness on their faces when they win and their sisterly love and protectiveness when trying to cheer each other up, it’s something special. But, coaching definitely isn’t for everyone even if most skaters think of it as the next best thing, the next step for their career after skating isn’t possible anymore.”

There was something in the way Yuuri spoke about coaching that just made it incredibly clear that Yuuko had made the right decision in asking him to do it. He looked happy as he spoke, his words carefully chosen, his face open and positive, nothing like the Yuuri media liked to portray him as in the past, the anxiety tormented skater who came in last in Soshi and had been ready to give up, nothing like the Yuuri he heard about from the Cup of China who barely managed to pull himself together in time for his Free Skate, or the Yuuri who worried that Victor didn’t love him, that he wasn’t good enough for the living legend.

Otabek could definitely see why Victor was so proud of how far Yuuri had come, of the confidence he gained over the years, and just how much he changed as a person in positive ways. Those two were perfect for each other, it was more than clear to see.

“Would you mind if I’d come by a few more times to just watch?” Otabek asked just as the girls were returning onto the ice.

“Of course! Come by any time, I’m sure the girls would love to show off everything they can do so far to the Hero of Kazakhstan,” Yuuri said with a smile, lightly touched his shoulder and then skated away toward the center of the ice.

 _Hero of Kazakhstan, right_.

Over the next week or two Otabek fell into a comfortable routine, which felt nice, almost like he had a purpose again, at least somewhat. In the morning he accompanied Yuuri to Ice Castle, watched and listened as he coached, during the day he walked around Hasetsu, visited the Katsuki’s and their onsen, and in the evenings he played the piano, gradually getting better each time. Usually Yuuri and Victor sat on the sofa caught in their own world reading and listening, merging into the background until Otabek barely even remembered that they were there as he lost himself in the music.

One day during a walk with Nika, Otabek noticed the sign for Minako’s ballet studio and somehow he felt compelled to go inside. She was another person that could potentially share some wisdom with him, some advise on how to cope with a career that was no more. Well-trained Nika lay down next to the door ready to wait for him, just like Victor said she would.

Inside Otabek could hear quiet piano music accompanied my Minako saying something in Japanese, a class probably going through different positions and forms. It’d been a while since Otabek had seen anyone but Yuri practice ballet, and even longer since he had tried to do it himself.

The studio was filled with little girls in pale pink leotards and skirts, white tights and ballet shoes, their hair up in neat buns, their postures perfect and straight. Minako walked passed them, her eyes watching each movement with precision, though she seemed much less intimidating than Lilia as she corrected one of the three boys in the back.

Before anyone would spot him, Otabek walked back to the chair filled waiting area and sat down. It surely wouldn’t be so long anymore until the lesson would be over and he really had nowhere else he had to be any time soon.

“Otabek, what a surprise,” Minako said as he walked back into the studio once the girls left. “What brings you here? Did you change your mind about ballet after all?”

“I’m afraid not, besides, I am way too old to start now,” he said finding it strangely easy talking to her.

“It’s never too late to start anything. You might not make an ensemble, or match Yuri, but you surely could learn a thing or two.”

“No one can match Yuri, besides maybe Katsuki.”

“He was my student after all,” she smiled proudly and then pointed at a picture hanging next to the door. It showed Minako standing next to a much younger Yuuri with his leg up high, perfectly straight looking completely at ease, like it was the easiest position possible. It definitely reminded Otabek of Yuri and the first time he’d seen him do that arabesque with so much grace he could barely believe it. “I saw Yuri won the Russian Nationals. His performance was flawless. You must be proud oh him.”

Otabek smiled then and lightly nodded. “I am.”

“I still remember that evening when Yuuri called me all breathless and crying out of sheer happiness to tell me that the two of you got engaged. Him and Victor really care about Yuri, the both of you.”

“Even if Yuri doesn’t show it much, he feels the same way.”

“So, proud husband-to-be, how can I help you if not by teaching you ballet?” she asked and sat down on one of the chairs standing in the back of the studio indicating for him to do the same with her hand.

“I guess I just wanted to ask you how you knew you wanted to be a ballet instructor? I heard stories about your ballet career and everything so I thought I would ask.”

“Oh yeah, Victor mentioned that you’re looking for a plan of what to do now that you retired,” she said and nodded lightly. “You know, Otabek, being a teacher had never really been on my radar. All I ever wanted was to be as a dancer, stand on that stage wearing a beautiful costume and show the audience these beautiful ballets we worked so hard on. But, one day it ended and I had to find something else. So I came back to Hasetsu, opened my studio and hoped for the best.”

“Easy as that?” The hopefulness in his voice even took Otabek by surprise. He desperately wanted for this to be easy, for his struggles to have an easy solution he could simply stumble upon in a conversation, even if he knew that most likely none of that was realistic.

“Definitely not easy, it was a struggle and a half at first,” Minako said, lightly chuckling. “Switching from being the taught to the teacher is difficult, especially if you don’t teach professional dancers like yourself but children who have no idea what they are doing. But every once in a while I have someone in my classes like Yuuri and it makes it worth it. He’s always been an anxious kid but ballet helped him bring out something in him, show that he was special, and then he started to skate and I knew he’d found his passion. Being there along the way, seeing him grow and evolve until he became the man he is today, it was a wonderful experience that I am thankful for, even if I doubted myself as teacher a million times, struggled with keeping my studio alive at times and all these things.”

“So sometimes you simply have to try and hope for the best then?”

Minako remained silent for a moment, looked around until her eyes landed back on him. “You know, the most important thing is to do what makes you happy. Something you’re passionate about that brings you joy and fulfillment. Following someone else’s expectations or something you thought you wanted to do but now aren’t sure about anymore, that won’t do the trick for you, at least not for longer than a year or two, if even.” A small smile appeared on her face then and she looked away once more. “My parents didn’t want me to be a dancer, said it was too risky of a thing, that only so few of them actually make it into the big ensembles and make a name for themselves. But I knew it was what I wanted so I stuck with it and it paid off, even if it was hard at times and my future looked bleak. Just as you said, sometimes you simply have to take a risk, take the road less traveled, and hope for the best, and maybe you’ll be rewarded.”

Otabek nodded absentmindedly, mulling over her words in his mind. Just like he expected, none of it was really the answer he’d been looking for, none of it that easy solution he craved, but it added a new perspective.

“Thank you,” he finally said and got up ready to leave. “For telling me all that.”

“Any time.”

 

* * *

 

“Beka?” said that wonderful voice on the other end of the line. “Why are you awake. Isn’t it like five am for you?”

Was it already five? Otabek hadn’t even noticed how much time had passed as he lay in bed and stared at the ceiling above him. His mind was buzzing with questions and worries, doubts and wonderings unable to shut up. He thought that after talking to Victor, Yuuri and Minako, somehow this entire thing would get easier, that he’d find his answer and would be able to follow its lead, but so far nothing had done just that.

“Tell me that I can do this, please.” His voice was weak and pleading, much more than he planned for it. Maybe it was a bad idea to call Yuri at such a time, burden him with his problems now that the Euros were right around the corner, but he was the only person Otabek would believe when he’d tell him just that. Yuri wouldn’t bullshit him.

“Of course you can, idiot,” Yuri said and he could practically hear the smile in his words. “You’re making too big of a deal out of this. Just relax, take it easy, no one is forcing you into deciding on something right now. But I know that you can do this. You will find your answer, I’m sure of it, and whatever it will be, I’ll be there to support you no matter what you’ll decide on. Okay?”

“I love you, a lot, you know?”

“I know, and I love you too, but you _really_ should go to sleep, zhanym.”

“Yeah,” Otabek said feeling almost a little breathless. “I just…I don’t know. I needed to hear your voice, that’s all.” That sounded cheesy as hell but at five am he could probably get away with it. Then again it was the truth so whatever. Hearing Yuri’s voice just always made him feel better somehow, Yuri in general made him feel better.

 

* * *

 

Another week passed including the Euros with another shiny gold medal for Yuri, and slowly Otabek was coming to his first proper conclusion on his hell-forsaken journey to answer the question ‘what next’.

Despite everything he said in the past and what he used to believe, he was sure that being a coach was not what he wanted to be after all. When he started to skate, he’d immediately known that that was it, had felt this fire ignite within him, the flame still burning to this day though smaller than it used to. But when he thought of coaching or helped Yuuri, he felt nothing. Sure it was nice and he smiled whenever the girls did something right and thanked him for whatever reason, but it just didn’t feel like ‘it’, like this calling he should be following.

Maybe his decision would disappoint people, and maybe later down the line he would change his mind, but right then he simply knew that coaching wasn’t it. Yuri’s words and the conviction with which he’d said them, the assuredness in whatever decision he would make, it helped him, made him feel stronger somehow.

 

* * *

 

**_Me: What if I’m not good enough?_ **

**_Serik: Good enough for what?_ **

**_Me: Everything._ **

**_Serik: You’re an idiot, Otabek._ **

**_Me: I am aware._ **

**_Serik: No, you’re not. You’re an idiot because you think that simply because you don’t want to be a coach, something that is connected to skating, it somehow decreases your value as human or some shit, which honestly, don’t even get me started._ **

**_Serik: Is all of this really just about your retirement?_ **

**_Me: I don’t know._ **

**_Serik: Remember that one saying, ‘If you want to know what a person is afraid of losing, look at what they take pictures of’ or something? Is your phone filled with pictures of skating and coaching and glory and shit?_ **

**_Me: …no._ **

**_Serik: See. It’s filled with pictures of Yuri, isn’t it?_ **

**_Me: …yes._ **

**_Serik: So basically you’re just panicking because you think that somehow you not being connected to skating will diminish your value in Yuri’s eyes or some complete bullshit like that? When his grandfather was dying, whom did he call? You. When he was grieving and falling apart, whom did he want to have by his side because he was the only person who actually helped? You. Dude flew all the way to Almaty to ask us for our blessing before asking you to marry him. Does any of it sound like he gives a shit if you’re still a skater, or a coach-to-be or whatever? No. Yuri loves you so chill and take it easy; you’ll only look old quicker if you’ll worry so much._ **

**_Me: Thank you._ **

**_Serik: Any time, that's what older brothers are for._ **

 

* * *

 

On Yuuri’s free day, the three of them piled into their car and drove to the nearest bigger city that had a multi-story music store Otabek had found online by chance. If they were anywhere else in the world, he would’ve gone alone, but he didn’t have a clue how to explain specifics in Japanese, or say anything more than very few basic phrases, so he needed Yuuri’s and Victor’s help.

Once they arrived and entered the store, Otabek felt like a kid that walked into a toy store or right into a magical land made of dreams and wishes. And that was when something finally clicked within him.

 

* * *

 

The day Yuri arrived at Worlds, he was ready to kick ass. It was the final competition of the season and after his winning streak at Nationals and Euros he felt more than sure that he would get the gold with ease, even if he’d have to kick JJ off the top step and rip the medal out of his fucking hands. Yuri simply had to win that gold for himself and for Otabek, for their future together, just like he said he would many months ago.

What he didn’t expect to find in the evening after coming back to his hotel room after public practice though was an email from Otabek waiting in his inbox. What could he possibly have to say that couldn’t fit into a text or wait until their next call?

Curious Yuri jumped onto his bed after taking a quick shower, his hair still wrapped in a towel, with his laptop open in front of him. All that email contained was a link, which felt anticlimactic somehow. He clicked on it and a new tab popped up leading him to a SoundCloud playlist.

_What the fuck?_

Said playlist contained ten original songs, since he didn’t recognize any of the titles, and was created by Otabek, the title of said playlist simply reading ‘Yuri’. Damn it he was such a cheese ball sometimes, though okay this was kind of cute, even though Yuri had no clue what this entire thing was supposed to be.

Reaching for his backpack, Yuri pulled out his better over ear headphones—ones that Otabek had actually gotten him a while back, the frame a shiny black while the cushioning was cheetah print, custom made just for him—and plugged them into his laptop. But, before he could allow himself to just lie there and listen to the music, he wandered back into the bathroom to dry his hair even though he hated it, but making it through twenty minutes of blow drying was miles better than getting sick just before Worlds.

Once he was finally in bed with the door locked and all the lights turned off, Yuri slipped on the headphones, pressed play and closed his eyes. He heard a lot of Otabek’s music across the years, but somehow this was different in feeling from his previous pieces. Some of it was his more DJ type stuff, mixes of EDM tracks with samples and beats, but others were more stripped back, just his smooth voice and a piano. Where the fuck did he take a piano from? Did Victor and Yuuri have one? Yuri honestly couldn’t remember.

Either way, it was phenomenal, like Otabek’s skating but turned into music. And damn Yuri never knew he could sing quite like that, or even write proper lyrics and shit. What else could he do that Yuri didn’t know about? Otabek was insanely talented, he didn’t have to be a music specialist or some shit to figure that one out. His arrangements fit perfectly together, the piano melodies played with ease but with this Otabek typical power behind them, just like the longer DJ tracks.

His favorite track, after listening through all of them once, was a track called ‘Barcelona’, simply because it sounded happier than he expect for a song by Otabek to sound based on how sad and lost he’d been for months after his announcement. Also it reminded him of their first conversation at Park Güell, the beautiful sunset and the beginning of their journey together.

Somehow Otabek managed to put those ten tracks together so that they worked together seamlessly despite being so vastly different in style and genre. There were pieces that felt lonely and sad which transitioned into ones that sounded searching and wistful and then ended on something resembling hope, strength and assurance, like he’d found whatever he’d been looking for by the end of track ten.

Did that mean Otabek had finally found his answer to ‘what next’? Could Yuri finally ask him to come home once Worlds would be over? He dearly hoped so because their apartment was getting way too lonely and he was missing Otabek way too much, more than he thought he would or could. They’d talked almost on a daily basis just like they used to for years, but it just didn’t feel enough anymore, though Yuri felt proud of himself that he never whined or complained, that he remained the good fiancé who just wanted Otabek to be okay.

Somehow he’d made it this far, he could make it through a few more days, especially now that he had this playlist to keep him company, Otabek’s words sung and played right there at a touch of a button.

Just as promised Yuri went on and kicked JJ’s ass so hard he only made bronze while Seung-Gil took silver. Yuri was more than happy, his season amazing despite everything, despite how sad he’d been throughout the Grand Prix series and then when moving through the Nationals and Euros. But he made it, kept his word, won their gold, made himself proud, and surely Otabek too. Even if competing without Otabek sucked more than he thought it would, Yuri now knew for sure that he could do it, that he didn’t crumble like Yuuri had all those years ago when Victor had to leave for his FS during the Rostelecom Cup.

There was a distinct difference between needing Otabek to be there and simply wanting him to be there, and Yuri was happy that he felt the latter rather than the former.

In beautiful Aeroflot fashion, Yuri’s plane landed _just_ two hours late in St. Petersburg and he was more than ready to just fall into bed and not wake up until noon the next day. Mila had been talking almost nonstop the entire flight long, even after Yuri had told her to shut the fuck up a million and one times, and he was honestly just so done with her shit at this point. She, of course, found his reactions cute and endearing because what else did he expect.

With his luggage in hand, Yuri parted ways with the rest of Yakov’s team and hailed himself a cab to get home as soon as possible. Once at the house Yuri firs went by to their neighbor one floor down who took care of Oxana during competitions. It was some old lady with four cats of her own that so far never disappointed Yuri or neglected Oxana so he trusted her, more or less. Then again he told her he would do inexplicable things should she somehow hurt Oxana.

“Oh, dear, that handsome man that lives with you was already here to pick her up,” she said and Yuri could only frown. How could that be true if Otabek was still in Japan? Maybe she didn’t even mean him, maybe it was Georgi, whom Yuri had given a key just in case should something happen or whatever? Then again, Yuri wouldn’t call Georgi handsome.

“Okay, thanks,” he finally said and walked back to the elevator.

The next clue that something was odd was the A4 envelope leaning against their door addressed to Otabek with the seal of one of the universities in St. Petersburg printed on it. _What the actual fuck is this?_ Yuri was gone for five days and odd things had happened in the meantime, and he so didn’t know what to make of any of it. What did a university want from Otabek?

Finally Yuri unlocked the door and slipped inside, threw the door closed behind him, took off his shoes and marched toward the bedroom without even looking around. Once there he threw his shit in front of the closet, his coat over the back of a chair and pulled the hair tie from his hair. He was definitely too tired for this shit. And where was that stupid cat of his anyways?

Walking back toward the living room with that envelope still in his hand, Yuri dropped it when he saw the figure standing in front of the window.

“Beka?” he said almost breathlessly.

As though on command, Otabek turned around with a smile. “Surprise.”

Before Yuri could think about what he was doing, he broke into a short sprint and all but threw himself at Otabek, his heart beating frantically out of endless happiness. He hadn’t even realized just how fucking much he missed this until he felt Otabek’s arms around him, his warmth against his chest, the feeling of his hair between his fingers, and, above all, Otabek’s lips on his. Their kisses were hungry, passionate, open mouthed and fucking sloppy, like they wanted to make up for the last four months in a mater of minutes, like neither could quite believe that they really were together again.

“What happened to your hair?” Yuri asked once they broke away from their kiss to catch their breath. The loose bun Otabek had for the past few years was gone and his hair felt like it used to back when he was like eighteen or nineteen, the top part longer and everything else short in his undercut again.

“I wanted to return home looking like the guy you liked and fell in love with instead of the pathetic mess that packed his things and ran…”

“I was the one to give you the idea for running, and the ‘permission’ to do it, in the first place so you’re many things but not pathetic, Beka.”

“I simply wanted to come home as the man you loved and not the one who was losing his purpose and giving up on himself, and who disappointed you.”

“You’re an idiot, Beka, honestly, listen to yourself,” Yuri said and shook his head though a traitorous little smile still snuck onto his face. “You have never disappointed me and you could never do it. And believe me, your hair is unimportant, long or short, I’ll love it either way, I’ll love you either way, because right now the only thing that actually matters to me is that you are finally back home again.”

“Fucking sap,” Otabek said with that lopsided smile he knew made Yuri weak on his face before they kissed again.

Somewhere in the process they moved enough that suddenly they found themselves lying on the couch slightly laughing and then losing track of time in more desperate kisses, hands messing up hair, wandering across each other bodies and under shirts, Yuri skin practically setting on fire in the process, his heartbeat and breathing all over the place. He’d been starved for Otabek’s touches and kisses, for the little moans and growls he made, the warmth of his skin and the feeling of his body beneath Yuri.

“What’s up with that university letter?” Yuri managed to ask more or less coherently between kisses.

“I finally know what I want to do and the road to get there is taking me to university,” Otabek answered cryptically as fuck. “Never thought I’d actually go.”

“I got as much, but like fucking specifics and shit. I know you said you didn’t want to coach so I guess this has something to do with music, judging by that amazing playlist you made for me. Honestly, how are you just this fucking talented and perfect?”

“You’re the perfect one,” he said and underlined his words with a series of distracting kisses along Yuri’s jaw and down his neck. “But yes, music. It started with me just playing on Yuuri’s piano and then I started to work on mixes again and I just knew that that’s it. I could feel it again, this fire, a similar one to the one I felt for skating. So I applied for Music Engineering at a bunch of universities in the city hoping for the best. Maybe it’ll be a waste of time, maybe it won’t result in anything, but I thought I should at least try, right? What do you think?”

“If doing that, studying and producing music, will make you happy, I’ll support you no matter what, just like I told you that night you called me months ago,” Yuri said with a smile, his thumb tracing Otabek’s cheekbone. “Even if you end up as unemployed musician stereotype. At least you’ll be _my_ unemployed musician stereotype.”

“So you still want to marry me?”

“The fuck, what kind of stupid question is that?” Otabek just lightly shrugged. “Beka, you’re good looking and intelligent so don’t pretend that you’re not. Of course I still want to marry you, I always will.” To underline his words Yuri leaned in for another kiss that somehow turned into four. “I have to show you something. Wait here.”

Looking disheveled as fuck Yuri jumped up from the couch and walked to the bedroom to find his medal buried somewhere in his suitcase. Luckily he found it relatively quickly hidden in his favorite animal print jacket and then returned to the couch slipping right back on top of Otabek like he never left.

“Congratulations,” Otabek said as Yuri held the medal in front of his face.

“Thank you, but turn it around.”

Otabek did as he was told, took the medal and turned it around to look at the engravings on the back stating the usual shit like the date, men’s singles, World Championships and…

“Yuri Altin-Plisetsky?” he asked, eyes darting from the medal up to Yuri’s in disbelief. “You did not.”

“I clearly did. I said I’d win that shit for the both of us and that was the closest I could get it to say so.”

“You’re unbelievable,” Otabek said with that lovely fucking grin on his face that Yuri felt the urge to take a picture off and frame because it was so perfect and rare.

“Welcome home, Beka.” Yuri kissed him again, a quick touch of lips, before moving slightly away to place the medal on the coffee table to have both of his hands free again. “I love you, as skater and musician, but please don’t leave me for four months again.”

“I won’t,” he said sounding so fucking genuine. “I love you, too, more than I can express.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, I blame 'This Town' by Niall Horan being a title song entirely on Shoma Uno and his fucking brilliant and beautiful EX at Four Continents this year. Blame it all on him, and also go watch it, it's everything.
> 
> OMG This chapter was so scary to write, I literally can't tell you how much I was breaking my brain over it afraid that I would completely mess it up since this is such an important chapter. I so badly hope that you like this chapter and are excited for the finale coming soon (I still need to start writing since I literally finished this chapter earlier today, oops)
> 
> Originally I planned something completely different for Otabek but it just didn't feel right so I changed my mind and steered the story in a different direction that just felt better, in a way? I also looked through legit like 10-15 universities in St. Petersburg (many of which have their websites only in Russian so props to my rusty skills) to see if any of them actually offer Music Engineering, but I couldn't find one. There are so many military academies, what's up with that? But I'm sure there is something along those lines in St. Petersburg, and if not, well now there so so shhhhh. 
> 
> The song Yuri mentioned from Otabek's playlist called 'Barcelona', it's literally 'Barcelona' by Ed Sheeran. That song has been used by both Victuuri and Otayuri shippers as their anthem since the album came out so I just decided that I needed to have it mentioned somewhere. I love Ed Sheeran and that song is amazing.
> 
> Also I'M SO SORRY for having Makkachin pass away but like it was either leave him alive (age like 20+ which just isn't realistic) or stick to trying to keep this story realistic as much as I can. It was a hard decision, honestly, especially for someone who had two of her dogs pass away.
> 
> So, next chapter is the grand finale. Everyone excited? I know I am even though I have literally no idea how I will wrap my brain around that chapter BUT I'm sure I'll figure it out, eventually, don't you worry. Anyone want to take a guess as to what the final chapter might be about? ;)
> 
> So any thoughts? I greatly appreciate every comment and kudos you guys leave me. It truly helps me stay motivated and write more chapters, make them better each time. :)


	20. I Giorni (Age 24)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title song: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Uffjii1hXzU
> 
> OMG THIS IS IT GUYS. I cannot believe this is this final chapter, I'm legit going to cry. I didn't plan on posting it until tomorrow but I just finished it and I can't wait until tomorrow so ENJOY! I hope it won't disappoint.
> 
> not beta'd.

Victor never cared much about letters. He’d written Yuuri a number of them across the weeks leading up to their wedding, but besides that he merely considered them a waste of paper. Despite that he walked out of the door to their mailbox to retrieve the mail that accumulated there over the past week. He didn’t see much need to check it more often.

Usually the only letters they received where bills and advertisements along with the occasional invitation to things they didn’t care about much. So with a hand full of letters Victor returned into the house and walked into the kitchen, Nika happily trotting along next to him, and laid down the letters to see if there was anything of worth in the pile. Only one letter stood out, a crisp white envelope with a familiar yet awful script on the front and a postal stamp he’d never seen before.

“Vitya?” he heard Yuuri say somewhere behind him. “Did something happen?”

Victor blinked, confused, his eyes on the letter he pulled out of the envelope, the paper thick and flawlessly white with gorgeous yet simple golden writing on it. “No.”

“Then why are you crying?” Was he? He raised one hand off of the letter and yes there were definitely tears running down his cheeks. “What’s going on?”

Despite his tears Victor smiled and held out the letter to Yuuri. “Read it.”

Reluctantly Yuuri took the letter and pushed his glasses in place, his eyes widening a moment later as he began to read out loud: “The pleasure of your company is requested at the marriage of Yuri Dmitrievich Plisetsky and Otabek Timuruly Altin…”

“See, now you are crying too, lyubov moya,” Victor said and took the letter back out of Yuuri’s hand before pulling him into a hug. “They’re growing up so fast, don’t they?”

Victor could still remember his own wedding, the happiest day of his entire life despite all his winnings and medals. Nothing could compare to that day, the joy he’d felt when he saw Yuuri at the altar smiling but with tears already in his eyes glittering like a thousand little diamonds in the sunlight. And now it was Yuri’s turn to stand there. Victor’s heart swelled at the thought.

For so many years Yuri had seemed like the edgy child that cared about nothing and no one but himself, his grandpa and winning medals, but he’d changed so much over the past years. Victor could still see the same fire in his eyes, but the shadows that lingered in the background, inflicted by a childhood that wasn’t happy, the parents he lost and subsequently the grandfather that passed away, they had been replaced over the years, chased away by light, love and happiness.

“We’re going to have to buy new suits,” Victor said after kissing Yuuri’s hair. “And a pretty collar with a bow for Nika.”

“You want to take her with us?” Yuuri asked. Victor was sure that Yuuri meant to sound surprised, but after so many years, Yuuri had gotten used to his quirks, something Victor thought no one ever would, at least not genuinely. People used to humor him, he was Victor Nikiforov after all, but not Yuuri.

Yuuri had given him more than he probably understood, more than a new home, family and last name, more than Victor was sometimes able to admit even to himself because it just didn’t seem possible that a single person could represent anything and everything encompassed in the words life and love. Nine years had passed since Victor arrived at the Katsuki house and declared himself Yuuri’s coach, but despite all this time, Victor still felt himself fall in love with Yuuri more and more with each new day.

When Yuri called them a few months ago to ask them about wedding related things like wedding planners, locations and organization, Victors first through, though he never would’ve actually shared it with anyone, was: _Please, Yuri, for the love of everything that’s good, do not make this wedding tacky with animal print decorations and suits because you will regret it._ Luckily as their car stopped in front of the venue a month after the invitation arrived, Victor rested assured that this wedding would be all but tacky.

The wedding was held in a grand villa with big floor to ceiling windows, two staircases leading up to the main entrance, the façade sandstone with elaborate ornaments and decorations, two giant vases flanking the double doors leading inside filled with fresh white flowers and pale golden bows. The inside was even more breathtaking, marble floors and chandeliers, open spaces filled with natural light, silver candelabra sticks and candles, flowers and carpets.

The decorations were rather simple, the color scheme based around whites and very light grays and gold, but it was beautiful nonetheless, miles away from what Victor had expected considering Yuri had his hands in all of them. Then again, maybe he should have a little more faith in the boy. He wasn’t the angsty fifteen year old anymore that spewed anger and rage at anyone and everything in his way. No, Yuri was a man now, a proper adult; though he’d never lost his colorful language no matter how much Lilia had tried.

“It’s wonderful,” Yuuri said next to him as they wandered into the room that held rows upon rows of light wooden chairs decorated with white and golden bows and small bouquets of flowers along the middle aisle leading to the front, a raised step flanked by even more flowers of various sizes and shapes. Half of them Victor didn’t even know what they were.

“It is, isn’t it?” Victor agreed and pulled out his phone to take pictures. These were the sort of things worth remembering, especially that fond smile on Yuuri’s face as he looked around.

“There you are, assholes,” Yuri said from across the room with a slightly annoyed sounding sigh. “We saw you arrive but then you disappeared.”

“It’s nice to see you too, Yuri,” Victor said with a wide smile. For a moment he could see something like surprise hush over Yuri’s face, shock almost, before he caught himself again and the familiar scowl slipped in place. “You’ve really outdone yourselves with this venue. It’s gorgeous.”

“Thank you,” Yuri said and now it was Victor’s turn to be surprised. The world was definitely about to end because Yuri Plisetsky had just said thank you, just like that. Love really had changed him, no questioning that. “Either you continue standing around gawking or I can show you your room upstairs.”

Only a few select guests were staying at the villa along with the grooms, everyone else stayed in the closest hotels and would get picked up the next day just in time for the ceremony. The room Victor and Yuuri got was relatively big with a window looking out onto the backyard and the adjacent lake. Nika would be pleased. Their suitcases stood against the King sized bed, the sheets light blue matching the blue color scheme of the room.

“If you need anything, we’re just down the hall,” Yuri said and then disappeared again.

“Is it just me or is he incredibly stressed out?” Victor asked and raised a brow.

Yuuri nodded in agreement. “He was oddly friendly and he only called us something once so definitely stressed.”

 

* * *

 

The next day after breakfast and showers it was time to get ready. Victor felt strangely nervous even though it wasn’t his wedding but Yuri was close to them, someone Victor and Yuuri cared about a lot, so that probably explained the nervousness and feeling of happy anticipation simmering beneath Victor’s skin. He could only imagine how Yuri must be feeling.

After getting dressed in his own three-piece suit in black and white, a fitting choice Victor realized considering the general color scheme, along with a pair of shiny Oxfords, he looked into the mirror one last time to check his hair.

“I’m going to check on Yuri,” he said then. Yuuri stood in front of the mirror in the bathroom and was in the middle of tying his tie surprisingly more skillfully than Victor just a few moments prior. He looked absolutely beautifully.

“Do that, I’ll check on the guests in the meantime.”

Walking down the hallway Victor could hear excited sounding chatter in a language he didn’t understand—Kazakh—and quickly spied its source through a halfway closed door. As far as Victor could see Otabek stood surrounded by his siblings and family all fawning over him with smiles and big excited hand gestures.

On the other hand he found Yuri standing in his own room a few doors further accompanied by Lilia and no one else. While she stood a few steps away to the side, Yuri inspecting himself in the body mirror in front of him. Victor was very pleased to find that Yuri’s outfit seemed to lack any and all animal print. White pants, a white loose shirt reaching a third down his thighs, a loose bow around his collar and a jacket with fine silver, pale gold and white embroidery lightly glittering in the light. The only thing that wasn’t white were his shoes that were black and decorated with small sparkling rhinestones.

“Beautiful, Yuri,” Victor heard Lilia say, a rare smile on her otherwise emotionless face.

“I can only agree,” Victor said, delight marking his voice, and finally went inside, closing the door behind him just in case. Yuri didn’t say anything to either of the comments, merely smiled faintly and fiddled with his floppy bow, nervously.

Victor sat down on a chair and watched as Lilia helped figure out whatever Yuri wanted to do with his hair, nothing too fancy for now since his headpiece would cover most of it. After a moment of discussion they settled on a few simple braids to keep his blond hair out of his face, the rest held together with a white hair tie cascading down Yuri’s back. Victor hadn’t even realized how long Yuri’s hair had gotten. It reminded him of his own hair once upon a time almost a lifetime ago.

“Shame on you, Yuri, looking better than me,” Victor joked and pulled out his phone to take a few pictures and quickly sent them to Yuuri.

“Jealous, old man?” Yuri asked and adjusted the white flower crown on his head.

“No,” Victor said and meant it. Yuri deserved to be the most beautiful groom the world had ever seen, an angel and a wolf in one, beautiful and fierce. “Otabek will lose it when he sees you like this. Though he doesn’t look half bad either, from what I’ve seen.”

“Victor,” Lilia said, her voice sharp as though reprimanding him for something.

“What? I didn’t say anything.”

“You are only making him more nervous and we do not need that.” Victor lightly raised his hands in defeat and remained silent after that. Not even he was willing to argue with Lilia, especially knowing that she would always pick Yuri’s side over his, for some reason not liking him much at all. It was almost strange since most people seemed to like him.

“What I need is a drink, preferably something strong,” Yuri said without making eye contact.

“Do not even try to get up from that chair, Nikiforov,” Lilia all but growled in that calm and collected way of hers that scared Victor ever so slightly. No wonder Yuri actually listened to what she said. “As for you, no getting drunk before the ceremony.”

“I don’t want to get drunk, I just want a fucking sip of something.”

“This might be your wedding, Yuri, but you will not use such unattractive words, especially not around the Altin’s.”

“As far as I can tell none of them are around so who cares?” Yuri lightly whined but Victor could see that he was about to give up. “I have to say my vows in front of a room full of people in less than an hour so I just wanted to do something to stop being so nervous, and if cursing helps, who gives a shit?”

“I do, and so should you,” she said with finality in her words.

“Speaking of vows, are you ready? Do you remember them?” Victor inquired, remembering how stressed he’d been about his own ones, going over them again and again because he’d been so afraid that he’d completely lose the ability to speak the second he’d step in front of Yuuri.

“Yeah, yeah, if I could deliver one hell of a proposal speech, this shouldn’t be that much harder, right?” Yuri said sounding both confident and unsure at the same time, lightly wavering around the edges.

“I’m sure it’ll be great and Otabek will love it.” Victor smiled at him assuredly. “The good thing is, even if you forget something and improvise, no one will know.”

“Yakov did that at our wedding,” Lilia said suddenly and both Yuri and Victor turned toward her. “Halfway through his vows he blacked out and improvised the rest as well as he could. It wasn’t as nice as what he originally planned on saying, but still just as heartfelt.”

“And you know that how?” Yuri asked, one brow raised skeptically.

“I helped him write part of his vows.”

Victor was shocked, not by the fact that Lilia had helped Yakov, but rather by the fact that she so casually offered up a story of her own, especially one involving her marriage with Yakov. Victor had known Yakov for a very long time, yet here barely knew anything about his time with Lilia and what even led to their divorce.

Suddenly the door opened and Yuuri poked his head inside. “It’s time.” At that Yuri turned a shade paler than he already was looking even more nervous but also excited. “You look great, Yuri.”

“Thanks,” Yuri said with a small smile. _He should definitely smile more_ , Victor decided once more. Yuuri nodded and then disappeared again, the door closing with a soft click.

Victor finally got up from his chair and walked over to Yuri, one hand on each of his shoulders. “Ready?”

Yuri closed his eyes, took a shaky breath and then looked directly at him. “Yes.”

When Yuri called him a few weeks ago and asked Victor to be the one to walk him down the aisle Victor had been convinced that Yuri was joking, that it was merely some kind of prank. But, it was actually true, so of course Victor agreed to do it feeling more than honored. He never expected Yuri to ask him that and felt more than touched by it, especially since that role usually belonged to the person’s father.

Once Lilia left, Yuri and Victor waited another minute or two, just like they’d agreed prior. Even though nothing was happening yet, Victor felt like tearing up again because he was just so proud of Yuri and so impossibly happy for him, happy that he finally found someone worthy of him, someone who loved him just the way he deserved it. Victor was glad it was Otabek. They were unquestionably made for each other, just like him and Yuuri.

Victuuri and Otayuri as Phichit insisted on naming them in his Instagram captions.

Heads turned and time seemed to slow down as the doors opened and they walked inside. Soft piano music played by Otabek’s aunt—whose name Victor couldn’t remember even if his life depended on it, which would be a shame because he’d very much like to live a little longer, especially since there was this little girl they desperately wanted to adopt and it’d be sad if that wouldn’t happen—filled the room accompanied by quiet gasps. There were a lot of people, many that Victor didn’t recognize and thus concluded that they belonged to Otabek’s family. But there were also a lot of people he knew, their fellow skaters and their families, at least in JJ’s case. Victor couldn’t believe that Yuri actually agreed to invite him.

In front of them just a few more steps away stood Otabek wearing a beautiful white suit by a designer Victor didn’t know but definitely needed to check out. His blazer had partially sheer sleeves, his dress shirt a pretty silver clasp holding the collar together and small white buttons running down the middle, white pants and polished black shoes. Whoever had done his hair had done an amazing job, the flower crown a nice accent matching Yuri’s. But the most beautiful part of his appearance was the unguarded and breathtakingly gorgeous enamored and fond smile on his lips and the look in his eyes as he watched Yuri.

Along with him stood his brother Serik, who, at least in Victor’s opinion, looked like a slightly taller and lightly grimmer looking version of Otabek wearing a crisp black suit, and his sister Aisulu wearing a black and gray three piece suit with her hair up in an elaborate braid Victor was sure Yuri would be fond of.

On Yuri’s side was his Yuuri, tears already glistening in his beautiful eyes, his hair slicked back and his suit flawless handiwork courtesy of Armani, a similar cut to Victor’s own, and behind him Mila who honestly looked like she was very close to crying, too. Just like Aisulu she also wore a three-piece suit but she had her hair open framing her face.

Victor could still remember the happy, touched tears Yuuri had cried when Yuri asked him to be his best man. They both knew that Yuri respected Yuuri and that he was the one he turned to for advice rather than Victor, which Victor never minded since he also turned to Yuuri for advice. Victor knew that being best man meant a lot to Yuuri, had seen just how happy he’d been because of it and how much he looked forward to it.

Once they reached the front Victor leaned over to Yuri and lightly kissed the top of his head, a subtle gesture Yuri surprisingly didn’t reject. Then he handed him over and found his empty chair next to Yakov and Lilia. Though he would never say anything, he did notice that those two were subtly holding hands just so that one couldn’t really see it. _Interesting_ , he thought.

The music subsided and Otabek’s aunt found her place before the ceremony started.

Due to all the cultural differences between Russian and Kazakh weddings, Yuri and Otabek had decided to stick to the standard wedding ceremony they knew from American movies, just like Yuuri and Victor had for their own wedding. With two grooms it would’ve been way too complicated to figure out the old traditions and somehow incorporating them into one ceremony, not that they hadn’t tried.

Yuri looked like he was about to cry the second he stood in front of Otabek, a smile on his lips and his eyes soft, softer than Victor had ever seen them in all the years he knew Yuri. Looking over Victor could see Aisulu wiping her eyes with a finger trying to somehow not smudge her makeup. He could also see Otabek’s parents sitting on the other side of the aisle. Victor heard stories about them from Yuri about how they were even more stoic and serious than Otabek despite being nice people in general. Now Victor didn’t see that, what he did see was a mother shedding happy tears and a father looking like the proudest person on his planet while holding his wife’s hands in his.

“And now it’s time for the vows,” the guy said after a while and Victor could see the terror in Yuri’s eyes even from where he sat. Who would’ve thought that the Ice Tiger of Russia would be afraid of something as ‘as saying a couple of ‘simple’ words in front of a room full of people.

“For a long time I only focused on my skating, on chasing the seemingly unattainable, medals and titles others seemed much more worthy of than me,” Otabek began and Victor was more than certain that there were tears in Yuri’s eyes a moment away from spilling down his face. “But then I met you again, the skater with the eyes of a soldier, the white swan at a charity gala, the fierce warrior at photo shoots, and the gentle soul only I get to see. But you are so much more than that and you mean more to me than anything ever has and will. The only and very simple truth that I know for sure is that if I were to live a thousand years, I would belong to you for all of them. If we were to live a thousand lives, I would want to make you mine in each one. I love you and I will always love you, Yura."

That was it, the moment a wave of noises hushed through the room as guests pulled out their tissues or handkerchiefs to wipe their tears at those beautiful words. As for someone who clamed he wasn’t good with words, Otabek’s vow had been everything anyone could wish for. Even Victor had to subtly dab at his eyes with a handkerchief while bracing himself for Yuri’s words.

“When I think of the future, every version I could possibly imagine contains you, because you are my future,” Yuri began, his voice uncharacteristically shaky while a tear ran down his cheek. Breaking his stance Otabek reached out and wiped it away, his movement gentle and coaxing a huff of shaky air out of Yuri. “All my life people saw me as whatever they deemed I was, yet you were the first one to see through it all, their words and my own acts. You always saw the real me. You saw someone worth getting to know, someone worth befriending and falling in love with, someone worthy of sharing your entire life with. I will never understand what you saw in me, but I am forever happy that you did. You gave me friendship, understanding, love, and a home and feeling of security I thought I would never have again. Just like you once said to me, the same is true for you. You are undoubtedly the best thing that has ever happened to me, Beka.”

After that they exchanged their ‘I do’s and rings, simple slim golden bands engraved with something on the inside only they knew. Victor had asked, many times, after Yuri mentioned it, but the only answer he’d ever gotten was ‘mind your own fucking business, old man’. And then it was time for the first kiss accompanied by a room full of cheering and clapping, happy whooping and a million and one picture being taken.

The ceremony had been perfect, there was no other way to describe it.

The banquet hall which housed the wedding party was at least three times as big as the room where the ceremony had been, the ceiling high and decorated with three sparkling crystal chandeliers, the floor marble covered partially by carpets and a dance floor, tables and chairs littered the space. Yuuri and Victor sat around a table with Mila, Sara, Georgi and his girlfriend Alessa.

The food was amazing, a mixture of Russian and Kazakh cuisine offering whatever anyone preferred along with a grand selection of waters, wines, Champaign and juices. The wedding cake was gigantic and held in the same color scheme decorated with tiger lilies—Victor was sure that one had been Yuri’s idea to somehow slip in his love for cats anyways—and other decorative pieces in silver and gold. The deserts were lavish and sweet, all the kind of things none of the skaters were usually allowed even near during the season, or at any point during their career at all. Surprisingly enough Victor could see Lilia eat away a few tables over like this was nothing, like she didn’t usually reprimand Yuri for as much as looking at chocolate.

Next, once the food was mostly done, was the party, which, in true partial Russian fashion, included a lot of alcohol, drunk people, loud singing and even more dancing. The first dance was set to a beautiful piano piece that, according to Yuri, had been written by Otabek himself.

Over the years Victor had learned that Yuri wasn’t a fan of slow dances, but up there on the dance floor slowly moving along to the soft melody he looked like there was nothing in this world he would rather do. The sheer amount of fondness and genuine love on both Yuri’s and Otabek’s faces was enough to silence the entire crowd, everyone almost holding their breath to not disturb them. Two tables down Victor could see Phichit filming them with a gigantic grin on his face.

Once the piano piece came to a close someone must’ve pushed a button to start the actual party music because a song with a steady beat and trumpets filled the air. A mischievous grin slipped onto Yuri’s face and his moves seemed almost too coordinate to be random. Victor hadn’t expected any less from him being a dancer at heart and all. But, to his surprise, and probably that of everybody else, Otabek quickly joined in with his own smooth moves. Together they moved across the dance floor circling each other like two lions and then came slowly closer, challenging each other as the bridge slowly transitioned into the chorus, which was when they started to dance together. Their lifts almost reminded Victor of their pair skates, the official ones and the things he’d seen them practice for fun. Off the ice they dared to do way more elaborate moves than on it.

Victor recognized the next song, something or another by a dude called Parov Stelar. _Good choice_ , he thought. Meanwhile on the dance floor Yuri and Otabek began to encourage the guests to join them on the dance floor. Across the table Mila and Sara got up eagerly, followed by Leo and Guang-Hong a few tables over, and a bunch of Otabek’s relatives.

“Can I ask for this dance?” Victor asked and held out his hand to Yuuri.

“Of course,” Yuuri said with a smile and took it. Yuuri was a wonderful dancer so they quickly slipped into a comfortable dance while trying to bump into any of the other dancing bodies. Everybody was bounding around, twirling and laughing, having a good time.

At some point the music switched to something slightly slower and more sensual, a song from a movie soundtrack though Victor couldn’t remember which one. Couples pulled each other into tighter embraces while friends danced in fun little circles laughing and smiling. No one cared if their skills were adequate or if they looked good at all, they just had fun.

Victor could see JJ dance with Isabella and their daughter seemingly caught in their own little bubble, and even Yakov and Lilia a little further off to the side. Phichit slipped through the room like a slinky basically stealing the wedding photographers job with his phone in hand documenting everything and everyone, much to Seung-Gil’s annoyance. But in such a full crowd quickly someone came up to him and pulled into him a dance. At some point Leo and Guang-Hong joined Phichit’s quest, their own phones out while coordinating who took which side of the dance floor over texts or quick shouts.

A couple of songs later Victor noticed Otabek leave the dance floor and walk over to the music station pulling out his laptop from underneath the table. A private show from the newest DJ on the scene, well, well.

“This is called ‘Without You’,” he announced, the fact that it was for Yuri went unsaid but was obvious to everyone present. Victor could see Yuri raise his hands to his face hiding half of it, his eyes wide and slightly glistening.

The song started with a simple beat slowly building in something that seemed like layers until Otabek legit began to sing, not just the song playing as prerecorded thing, but actual live singing. He sounded amazing earning him cheers from the crows, many of them going back to slowly dancing, the song clearly romantic for most couples. Victor pulled Yuuri closer and kissed him because without him, he, too, was lost and would never make it.

Once the song ended Yuri all but threw himself at his now husband and pulled him into a kiss forgetting everyone around them. With a smile Victor looked away.

 

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 **yuri-altin-plisetsky** best day of my life (ring emoji) **@otabek-altin-plisetsky** #thismanisofficiallymine #husband #bestdayever pic creds to **@phichit+chu**

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 **christophe-gc** the ceremony was beautiful! Remember to be safe, kids ;)

 **phichit+chu** CONGRATULATIONS ON YOUR MARRIAGE!

 **jjleroy!** 15 all the best you two!

 **Leo-de-la-iglesia** epic set and wedding of the century. Well done, bro, even if your name is annoyingly long now! ;) **@otabek-altin-plisetsky**

 

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 **otabek-altin-plisetsky** if the rest of our life will be like this, I cannot wait. **@yuri-altin-plisetsky** #thistigerismine #lovehimmorethanmyownlife #husband

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 **yuri-altin-plisetsky** that hashtag is awful BUT SAME  <3

 **v-katsuki-nikiforov** THEY GROW UP SO FAST!

 **a-thecoolestaltin** Congratulations, brother dearest. I’ve never seen you happier and you deserve the world, you both do. **@yuri-altin-plisetsky**

 

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 **v-katsuki-nikiforov** endlessly happy and proud of and for our angry cat son and his husband. Yuuri and I wish you all the best on the journey that is the rest of your life together. May your love never run out, even when you’re old and hate the world, at least you’ll be able to hate it together. :)  <3 **@yuri-altin-plisetsky @otabek-altin-plisetsky** #wedding #party #istillcantbelievethisishappening #imsohappy #andsoproud

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 **y-katsuki-nikiforov** he’s not our son Victor, even though I wouldn’t mind it.

 **yuri-altin-plisetsky** thanks ‘DAD’ (smiling cat emoji)

 **v-katsuki-nikiforov** WHAT WAS THAT, YUURI?! **@y-katsuki-nikiforov**

 

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 **phichit+chu** still can’t get over the fact that both my ships are married. So happy! **@yuri-altin-plisetsky @otabek-altin-plisetsky @v-katsuki-nikiforov @y-nikiforov** #wedding #otayuri #victuuri #flowercrowns

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 **phichit+chu** so who’s next? Leoji? Seungchuchu? Chris? WHO KNOWS?!

 **seung-gillee** what? ;)

 **phichit+chu** OMG @seung-gillee

 **leo-de-la-iglesia** I’ll bring the music with **@otabek-altin-plisetsky** ’s help and **@+guanghongji+** will bring the flowers!

 **y-katsuki-nikiforov** I call dibs on being best man ;)

 **phichit+chu** NOT HELPING **@y-katsuki-nikiforov**

 

_See you **NEXT LEVEL!**_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's a wrap guys. That was 'The Little Pieces of Us'. I am honestly a bit speechless. This chapter was the one that actually started this entire thing. I just wanted to write the Otayuri wedding and somehow I ended up with this story being more than 90k words and a sequel in the making. 
> 
> Before I get to chapter details and THE ACTUAL WEDDING PLAYLIST, I wanted to take a moment and thank everyone who came along on this ride, who read since chapter 1 or even just since a few hours ago. Every single read means the world to me, as does every comment and kudos. Seeing your support and love for this story seriously overwhelmed me and motivated me like nothing before. I really didn't think I would make it this far, but thanks to your love and excitement, here we are. THANK YOU SO MUCH! This really means the world to me and I lack the words to express it all properly.
> 
> Okay. Now the nitty gritty bits:  
> Otayuri wedding outfits are both courtesy of Mr. Johnny Weir because honestly he's a style icon and when I saw both these outfits I simply couldn't say no:  
> Yuri - https://instagram.com/p/BROxRzCgh8D/  
> Otabek - https://instagram.com/p/BQ-8g0Dgc6I/  
> The fan art responsible for the addition of flower crowns:  
> Yuri - http://xz-art.tumblr.com/post/158000259817/yoi-sketches-instagram-live-i-somehow  
> Otabek - http://xz-art.tumblr.com/post/158246002577/cause-someone-asked-where-otabek-was-in-the
> 
> Wedding playlist:  
> \- The Heavy - How You Like Me Now (song after the first dance)  
> \- Parov Stelar - All Night  
> \- alt-J - Left Free Hand  
> \- Parov Stelar - Booty Swing  
> \- Gramatik - Hit That Jive  
> \- The Avener - I Need A Good One (the movie song)  
> \- Klangkarussell - Netzwerk (Falls Like Rain)  
> \- Klangkarussell - Sternenkinder  
> \- David Guetta - Without You (the song Otabek sings for Yuri)  
> \- Ed Sheeran - Barcelona
> 
> How do you say goodbye? How do you accept that this is now listed as complete? I'm going to miss this but, as I mentioned, I'm working on cooking up the sequel soon, so that's keeping me in a good mindset.  
> Also, yes, I took the end screen from Episode 12 and added it in the end because it just seemed like the perfect opportunity for it, especially since the sequel will take us to the 'next level' that is the life beyond the ice. Get excited guys! Anyone want a guess as to what their lives might look like in the future?
> 
> And, for the last time: So, any thoughts? I greatly appreciate every comment and kudos you guys leave me. It truly helps me stay motivated and write more chapters, make them better each time. :)
> 
> THANK YOU!


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